Metamorphosis
by SteampunkSherlock
Summary: After entering a Game Cube to collect codes for study, a virus causes the game reality to fragment, transforming the entire system of Mainframe into a Game Grid. It's up to Kevin Sawyer to restore the city before the system crashes!
1. Introduction

Metamorphosis

INTRODUCTION

Four years ago, Dr. Kevin Sawyer led an elite group of scientists and engineers in a secret government project codenamed Virtual Man. Theorizing that a human being could be teleported into cyberspace, Dr. Sawyer and his team built the world's first digitization platform in an underground research facility hidden in the mountains of West Virginia. Under pressure to prove his theories or lose funding, Dr. Sawyer volunteered to become the first human test subject in order to discover the whereabouts and ultimate fate of the supervirus Daemon.

Arriving in Mainframe, he was befriended by Enzo Matrix and aided in thwarting Megabyte's latest attempt to destroy the system with an army of telepathically controlled Web Creatures. Afterward, when the Supercomputer was attacked by a new supervirus called Pythias, Sawyer helped the Mainframers in their battle against his old nemesis, Martin MacDonald, CEO of OmniCron Corporation. Later, following a mishap with the Gate Command, Dr. Sawyer, Bob, and Enzo were transported back in time to Mainframe's Twin City where they accidentally created an alternate reality.

Now, Kevin Sawyer is in a fight for his life, and the fate of Mainframe hangs in the balance. After entering a game cube to collect codes for study, a virus causes the game reality to fragment. The city is converted into a game grid where different sectors have taken on aspects of certain games. It's a race against time as Kevin makes his way to the Principal Office to trigger the system restore function before Mainframe crashes, taking our heroes with it.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1: It's Been One of Those Days All Week**

"Reintegration complete," Tom Keller called out automatically. His voice echoed through the intercom and an alarm buzzed automatically, signaling it was safe for the technicians to reenter the teleportation chamber.

From their stations within the control room, Tom and Kellous Scott, the project's chief medical expert, watched as Kevin Sawyer stepped off the digitization platform. The double-shielded door to the chamber slid open, and a group of half a dozen technicians filed in and started helping the cybernaut remove his pressure suit.

Kellous and Tom followed them in, both eager to hear the details about Kevin's latest foray into the cyberverse. When the helmet came off, they were surprised by the haggard face staring woefully back at them. Kevin looked like he hadn't slept in days. His eyes were bloodshot, there was a cut on his lip, and he had bruises on both cheeks and his right eye looked swollen.

"What happened?" asked Tom.

"I picked a fight with a brick wall, and it won," Kevin said, groaning pitifully as he extracted arms from the top half of the suit.

"From the way you look, I can believe it," said Kellous as he stepped forward to inspect Kevin's wounds.

He grimaced as he stepped out of his leggings. When the suit was completely off, they saw the rest of Kevin's battered body. There were more bruises along his arms and back, there was an ugly cut on his upper right arm, and his knuckles were split.

"God, Kevin," said Tom. "What happened to you?"

"I was in a bar fight," he said casually as Tom gently probed for broken bones.

"You were in a bar?" Tom asked, almost shocked. Drinking had never been one of Kevin's problems.

"Technically, it was a saloon," Kevin said, "and it wasn't a fight. It was fights. Plural. I was in more than one."

"What were you doing in a bar?" asked Kellous. He poked into a nasty bruise and Kevin winced. "Sorry."

"I wasn't there by choice, believe me," said Kevin.

"What about this cut?" Kellous asked, pointing to the gash on his arm. "This looks like a knife wound."

"Sword," Kevin corrected. "I got a little cocky with a samurai."

Kellous looked to Tom. He just shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know what to think, either. "Well, it's going to need stitches," Kellous reported. "Did you go into one of those cubes?"

"Something like that," said Kevin. "It's a long story."

"Why didn't you just let the Mainframers patch you up?" asked Tom.

"You know me and hospitals. I just wanted to come home."

"You're still going to have to spend some time in the infirmary," said Kellous. Kevin frowned. "At least let me sew up that scratch. It already looks infected."

"Fine," Kevin said begrudgingly.

He let Kellous and Tom walk him out of the teleportation chamber and to the infirmary. They arrived at the elevator just as the doors opened and Kelly Cleaver stepped out. Tom and Kellous managed to slip by her, but she deliberately stepped in front of Kevin.

"You're just the person I needed to see," she said.

Kevin ignored her. He tried to step aside, but she kept moving in front of him, blocking his way. After two attempts, he slumped his shoulders and sighed.

"You look like hell," she said.

"This must be Captain Obvious Day," he said.

"What's your problem?" she asked.

Some cluster of neurons fired in his brain, and Kevin immediately recognized the sight of an angry hornet staring him in the face, and this one had some kind of power over him. He couldn't remember exactly what kind of power she had — thinking only made his head throb — but he remembered she was someone who could make thing very difficult for him.

He rubbed his forehead. "What do you need, Miss Cleaver?"

"Do you own a tux?"

"Why do you ask?"

"The President's ball is next weekend," she said. "You're invited."

"Me? Wait, what ball?" The ache between his temples was getting worse, and coherent thought was becoming harder by the second.

"For his reelection," she said. "It's black tie. You need to be there."

"Why, exactly?"

"Because he wants to meet you personally. He wants to know why Virtual Man isn't ready for umbra-level operations yet."

"Can't I just write him a memo?" asked Kevin.

Cleaver pressed an envelope into his chest. It was his invitation. "Maybe I'm not being clear enough," she said. "You _need_ to be there."

Kevin heard the undercurrent of her voice, and knew what she had left unsaid. _You need to be there... or else._

He took the envelope, tore it in half, and tossed the pieces aside.

"Let's get a few things straight. You're not my boss. I don't take orders from you, and I don't give a damn about black ties, government functions, or kissing the President's ass. This project is my life's work, and if you can't make him believe I'm doing everything I can to get Virtual Man online then I suggest you find another job besides pushing me around like the paperwork on your desk."

She opened her mouth to say something, but Kevin cut her off.

"And another thing, if you even knew half of what my team is really doing here, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I've been stabbed, shot at, and generally beaten within an inch of my life this week, so when you get up in my face with this prissy 'I'm-the-boss' attitude, all I can think of saying is: _Go screw yourself!_ "

He finally sidestepped Cleaver and entered the elevator where Tom and Kellous had been holding the door. Neither of them had blinked since the debacle started. Kevin punched the button for the next floor up and savored the sight of Cleaver's blank face, her mouth still gaping, as the doors closed.

"Remind me never to tick you off after a bad day," said Kellous.

"It's been one of those days all week," said Kevin.

An hour later, Kevin was pulling his old Volvo into his driveway with a nice fresh stitch on his arm and enough antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medication running through his veins to ensure a painless recovery for the next two weeks.

Green Hill was located in Pocahontas County, West Virginia. It had been established as a research and development center by the federal government in 1992 and put under the supervision of DARPA. Chosen for its secluded location, Green Hill was nestled in the Allegheny Mountain Range of the Potomac Highlands. In Late 1992, the Army Corps of Engineers began acquiring 32,000 acres of land under the authority of the Department of Energy. Construction of the Green Hill facility began on November 3, 1992 and was completed three years later.

Kevin lived fifteen minutes away in Marlinton, the seat of Pocahontas County. As soon as he entered the house he smelled something wonderful wafting through the air from the kitchen. When he heard the clatter of dishes being laid out, he ventured into the hallway and walked into the dining room. Vivian Thompson, Project Virtual Man's chief physicist, was setting the table when he walked in.

The Englishwoman looked up and noted Sawyer's bruised face.

"You've looked better," she said. She poured him a glass of tea from a pitcher and handed him the glass. Kevin gulped it down. "What happened to the other bloke?"

He emptied the glass and gave a contented sigh. "I'll tell you later. How did you get in here?"

"You told me where the spare is, remember?" she asked. "Under the fake rock in the garden." She took the glass and refilled it. "By the way, you really need to spruce it up a little. Weeds are starting to sprout."

"I'll get right on that," he said as he drank his second glass of tea, this time more slowly.

"Sarcasm," she huffed. "One of these days you're not going to be able to hide behind it." She turned and went back into the kitchen.

"You'd be surprised how often the subject of my sarcasm comes up these days," Kevin said as he finished his tea.

"I wouldn't be either," she said. "You wear it like a second skin."

He entered the kitchen. Vivian was busy stirring something on the stove.

"You know, the last time I checked your degree was in physics, not psychiatry."

"There it goes again. The sarcasm." Kevin rolled his eyes, only to be reminded one was bruised and hurt like an open wound. He grimaced, and Vivian noticed. She put down her spoon and opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a can of cold soda. "Here," she said, handing it to him. "Put that on your face and go take a shower. Dinner should be ready by the time you get done."

Kevin, not in the mood to argue further, simply did as he was told. He stopped in the doorway and said, "You're the best, Viv. You know?"

She smiled one those sweet "I-know-but-it's-sweet-of-you-to-point-that-out" smiles and said, "Somebody's got to take care of you."

Vivian had many great qualities, not the least of which was her motherly personality. For some inexplicable reason she had become the mother hen of the group. Whether it was babysitting, offering a shoulder to lean on, or showing up and surprising you with a hot meal, Vivian was always ready to offer anything. Kevin didn't know what made her that way. Maybe it was because she was the oldest out of all of them, or maybe it was because she had no family of her own living in the states. It certainly wasn't her missing leg. Vivian had been in a car accident many years ago and lost her left leg as a result. She used a cane, but she could walk just as easily without it like she was right now. Aside from Tom, Vivian was the closest friend Kevin had. Every one of the project's administrative staff (Kevin, Tom, Sophie, Kellous, and Vivian) had become close over the years, and certain bonds had formed, some deeper than others.

Kevin returned to the kitchen after a relaxing shower. He had changed into fresh clothes, shaved (as carefully as he could considering the state of his face), and looked generally better than he had when he came in. Vivian was bringing out the bread when Kevin sat down. A steaming plate of angel hair pasta covered with red sauce was waiting for him. When Vivian sat down to her own plate, Kevin dove right in. Within seconds, it seemed, his plate was empty and he was raking himself another helping of pasta.

After this second helping, his appetite seemingly satiated, Vivian broached the subject. "So, are you going to tell me how you got so beaten up?"

"There was a problem in Mainframe," said Kevin. "Remember my last communiqué?"

"You said Welman was close to curing nullified sprites," Vivian said. "You were helping him build the reintegration machine or whatever he called it."

"Right. We almost got it to work."

"What went wrong?"

"We didn't have the right game codes for the machine to restore null sprites, so we had to work on getting some."

Welman and I had been working on the reintegration machine for weeks. It was almost an exact replica of our own digitization platform at the lab. The idea was to use specific game codes as a template to restore nullified sprites. The idea looked good on paper, but in practice it was harder to do. First of all, not every null in Mainframe owed its demise to game cubes. Some were deleted by the Twin City Explosion and other disasters the system had encountered over its history. So it became obvious from the get-go that the machine wasn't an all-around cure, at least not yet. Still, Welman persisted, and I continued to help.

When we finally got to the testing phase, we had a hard time finding a null that would accept the treatment. Finally, after three straight days (they're called seconds in Mainframe, Viv) Welman was so frustrated and depressed, he had to be taken out of his suit to rest. I made the obvious statement to Phong that we needed to update our library of game codes. Obviously, the more codes we had on file, the better chances we had of matching a null with the game that made it.

From my perspective, that was a week ago. The next day Welman was back on his feet and ready to begin again. I told him he needed to take some more time off to spend with Enzo. Bob was helping Dot negotiate a trade agreement with another system. Mouse and Ray were still around and offered to take him on a little road trip, but Dot wouldn't allow it.

AndrAIa had started giving Enzo lessons in martial arts, but her pregnancy made their sessions more or less sporadic. The kid was really starting to look down in the dumps, so I recommended Welman go play ball with him or whatever it is sprite parents do with their children. He decided to take my advice on the condition I would call him if I made some kind of breakthrough. A breakthrough was out of the immediate question, but I agreed to go into a game cube with Matrix to oversee the collection of new codes whenever one came down.

As it just so happened, one did. And that's where everything started going south.

* * *

"WARNING: INCOMING GAME. WARNING: INCOMING GAME." The faceless voice always struck me as eerie. The Mainframers were used to it. For them it was a normal part of their lives.

I was on standby with Matrix, Frisket, and Hack and Slash. The two droids were carrying the sampler. Welman had vidwindowed just a few nanoseconds earlier to make sure I was ready. I reassured him that I was in more-than-capable hands. In truth, I had a dreadful feeling Matrix would try to pull something on me while we were inside the cube. He and I never got along. Our first meeting started with the business end of a gun, and I guess we had "tolerated" each other ever since.

So there we were, standing outside the Principal Office, watching as the sky turned dark. A hole was opening over Beverly Hills. Specky relayed us the exact coordinates and we set off on zip-boards.

Now that I think about it, I'm probably not being very fair to Matrix. He's changed a lot since we first met. He and AndrAIa are married now, and expecting a baby in a few months. He seems to be more levelheaded now, less quick to anger. The more I'm around him the more he seems to accept me. Of course, the fact that I've been mangled, bashed, and generally had the crap kicked out of me on multiple occasions has probably earned me brownie points with him.

I'm getting off track. Anyway, we made it to Beverly Hills just as the game cube started dropping. Hack and Slash were distracted by one of their pointless conversations. To lighten the mood, I jokingly asked Matrix if Welman could have given them more brains when he rebuilt them. (Matrix had "accidentally" blown both robots to bits in a war game several months earlier.)

He replied, "He tried, but all the upgrades in the Net couldn't help those two dipswitches." He said it almost lightheartedly. I looked up and watched as the bottom of the cube grew larger in my view. "Listen up, you stay with the sampler. Let me handle the game. You can't reboot so you're more likely to get yourself hurt."

"What if you need help? You sure can't rely on Hack and Slash if the user turns out to be more than you can handle." He looked at me like I just insulted him.

"Right. I forgot who I was talking to."

The game landed right on us. The whole sector was replaced with serene countryside. We were standing in a glade. To the north and west was a dense forest populated with oak trees. To the south and east was open prairie with nothing but sloping hills and green grass. The sun hung in the middle of the sky, and I felt a light breeze across my skin. It was early or mid-summer, around noon. It was nice. It wouldn't stay that way for long, though.

Matrix rebooted into a Celtic persona. His clothes were transformed into a rustic variation of what he wore before. He now wore a cotton shirt covered by a leather poncho, wool breeches, and fur boots laced with straps of leather. He had a longsword at his side, and an eye patch over his damaged eye. Frisket turned into a red and orange steed with a saddle and headgear. Hack and Slash retained their robotic construction, only their outer plating was replaced with shaggy moss, and their limbs were made of wood. They must have been some kind of forest creatures or something.

"Okay, I've played this before," Matrix said. "Dragon Siege. It's a mythic game. The user has to slay the dragon on the last level and retrieve its heart to win. The game is full of demons, trolls, gremlins, and magic spells. Sawyer, you can't reboot, so the game characters will probably ignore you unless you pose a threat. Are you armed?"

"No. I'm fresh out of laser pistols." (I had lost my first pistol during a fight with Megabyte on my first trip, and the type-one prototype was destroyed with the OmniCron system. We really need to build a few more of those when we get the chance.)

"It's probably better that you're not," Matrix said. I wasn't sure if he was afraid I'd get trigger happy and draw attention to myself, or that he just didn't like the idea of me having a gun. In either case, he was probably relieved.

Of course, it meant I had nothing to defend myself with in case something nasty decided to cause trouble. Matrix, in his infinite wisdom and concern for my well-being, told Hack and Slash to stay with me while he chased down the user. I felt so safe.

As luck would have it, we made it to the game wall without incident. It was the limitation of the game environment. Up until now I thought game cubes were like tesseracts, that their internal geometry was independent of their exterior, and I later discovered this was true to an extent; however, games did have physical limitations. Anyway, we attached the game code sampler to the wall and waited as the digital readout steadily climbed, showing how much of the code it was assimilating. We were in the forest now. I recognized several kinds of trees native to the Earth. It was mostly made of tall oaks whose tops created a protective canopy against the midday sun. It was peaceful here, and I felt like I could have laid down and taken a nap.

Luckily I had Hack and Slash to keep me alert.

I listened through fifteen minutes of pointless conversation involving the words soup, squeaky, and sock. I wasn't really listening; I had tuned most of their talk out and only caught on words every few minutes or so. These particular words kept popping up, and how they related to each other I had no idea. I was getting ready to take a short walk around and stretch my legs when I heard movement a few feet away in the woods.

I told Hack and Slash to quiet down and listen carefully.

"What is it, Doc?" asked Slash. A twig snapped in the distance. Something was out there, and Hack and Slash heard it.

"Maybe it's Matrix," said Hack.

"It hasn't been that long," I said. "He couldn't have found the user that fast. Hack, let's do some recon. Slash, you stay with the sampler."

The obedient droid came to attention and saluted. It was a little funny and disturbing at the same time to see him saluting me. Slash and I spread out at a forty-five degree angle from the sampler, and we headed in the general direction where we heard the sound. It could have been an animal for all we knew, a deer or a bear maybe. Then again it would have just been the trees and their creaking and groaning as the wind blew across their branches. Still, I wanted to be sure. I hadn't had much experience in game cubes, but what little experience I did have told me to keep my bases covered.

After going about a hundred feet from the wall I saw something on the ground. It was a series of small holes barely a half-inch deep in the soil. They were parallel and ran back deeper into the forest. It was then I heard something off to my left, like something moving in the treetops. I looked up and saw only shaking leaves from a tall oak. I immediately felt my pulse shoot up. Adrenaline started fueling my blood. Something was here with us. Then I heard a scream. It was Hack! I ran as fast as I could toward the red droid's cry. When I found him he was lying on his back. He had scratches on his now-wooden hide.

"Hack, are you all right?" I asked.

"Oh, I felt that one," he said in pain.

"Hack, what was it? What attacked you?"

I didn't have to wait for an answer. I heard a thud behind me and felt the ground tremble a little bit as solid mass impacted the ground. Something had been waiting in the trees. I turned and saw something that made a childlike part of my mind scream in terror. It had the body of a scorpion and the torso and head of a praying mantis. Its claws resembled those of a crab and its tail had a stinger on its end that could punch through armor. Its color seemed to change as it moved, waves of blue and yellow and brown moving over its body.

A ghastly voice said to me, "What are you?"

At this point my legs were jelly, and a knot the size of my fist had formed in my stomach. I wasn't sure what to say so I said the first thing that came to my mind. "I'm Kevin... Kevin Sawyer."

"You are not a sprite," said the insect-thing.

"That makes two of us," I said.

I knew immediately I wasn't dealing with an aspect of the game. Nothing within a game cube knew about the world outside. The way AndrAIa explained it to me, game characters don't have the level of awareness to know their world is a game. To them a game is their whole universe, and nothing outside of it exists. Only AI sprites had the level of self-awareness to know what they really were. This thing had called me a sprite, not something consistent with the game reality.

"I am called Sphinx," said the insect. "I am a virus."

 _Oh_ , _crap_ , I thought. The virus started to pace around me and Hack, who had apparently passed out after seeing the creature.

"You are not a sprite," it said again. "You have no icon holding your PID codes."

I stood straight and tried to follow the virus as it circled me, scurrying around on its eight legs. I was all too aware of the sweat soaking into my shirt. "What are you?"

"That's hard to explain. Let's just say I'm different and leave it at that."

Its mantis head looked over in the direction of the sampler and asked, "What is that thing over there?"

"We're harvesting code from the game cube." I kept my answers short and simple. I noticed Slash was no longer guarding the machine. Where had he gone? Maybe he had got scared and run away. I wouldn't put it past him. Hack and Slash were not known for impeccable performance under pressure. I also knew they were programmed to protect. Slash may have been cowardly, but he couldn't betray his function. So where was he?

"Take me to see it," Sphinx ordered.

I motioned to Hack. "You've hurt my friend. He needs help."

"He is not in danger," Sphinx said coldly. "I only delete worthy prey."

I took another look at his pincers and imagined him crushing my skull like a melon under the force of a hydraulic press. It wouldn't take much force for him to kill me. But he was obviously curious, so I decided to keep playing that until I could figure out what to do.

I led him over to the sampler. He inspected it thoroughly. I didn't know what he wanted or what he was planning to do, but he looked it over as if he had found a precious jewel or artifact.

"Finally," he said. "I have a way of escaping this wretched game cube."

"Escape?" I asked. "You've been trapped here?"

"For many hours," it said. "It was the only way I could escape the Cobol Warriors."

"You were being hunted?"

I was trying to keep him talking. The longer he remained distracted, the more time I had to figure out a plan.

"The Cobols thought they were so clever separating us, but we outsmarted them. They never fully understood the powers they were trying to control. I can hear them now, can't you? The voices of my brethren..."

Either my hearing was bad, or I was dealing with someone suffering from schizophrenia. I was leaning toward the latter, and that only made my situation worse because I had never met a virus with schizophrenia before and... well, come on, that just sounds like disaster.

My hope sort of peeked when I saw Slash hiding behind a tree not ten feet away. He was leaning over to see what was going on. I winked at him, and subtly motioned for him to remain hidden. He did.

Sphinx was still on his soapbox. "If I can get to the outside then we can reform and finally have revenge on the Codemasters. Then Infector will complete his function and infect all cyberspace!"

(What is it about viruses and global domination? Seriously, these guys are worse than comic book villains. Don't they have hobbies, or better yet, girlfriends?)

* * *

Vivian grinned at Kevin. "As if you're one to talk about girlfriends."

"Don't start, Viv," Sawyer said. "I've gotten enough grief from you over this, and it's old."

"I'm just saying it wouldn't hurt if you started dating yourself."

"I'm not interested in dating," Kevin said.

"I think you're just afraid of getting hurt."

Kevin was silent as he gnawed on his lower lip. "Because I've been hurt. Badly."

"How long are you going to let that hold you back?" Vivian asked.

"Are you going to let me finish this story or are you going to keep psychoanalyzing me?"

* * *

So, Slash was hiding behind a tree, Hack was still passed out, and I was chatting it up with a crazy virus who was hearing voices. And my day was just getting started.

"This device can download codes, correct?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Then I can use it to download myself into its memory."

"That might work," I said. Actually I wasn't really sure. "Then again it was designed for game codes. I'm not sure if it would accept viral coding."

"It will after I reprogram it," said Sphinx.

"Reprogram it? But it isn't finished copying the game. Aborting the procedure could damage the device."

Obviously this guy didn't want to listen to reason because he slapped me aside with one wave of his claw. And here I was being a nice guy. He accessed the internal touchpad and LCD monitor and started entering a series of commands into the sampler. Now was a good a time as ever to attack.

"Slash, he's going for the sampler," I yelled. "Stop him!"

When nothing happened my heart froze. Sphinx was looking at me like I was no longer a curiosity and more like a nuisance. He stepped away from the sampler and poised his stinger above him, ready to strike.

"Uh, Slash... now would be a good time to save me."

I heard a wild Tarzan call echo through the woods as Slash swooped down from a hanging vine. Sphinx turned just in time to see Slash as the bot rammed his roller-ball into the insectoid's face.

Slash dropped to the ground next to me and assumed a combat-ready posture. He waved his hands and chanted some phrase in a language I couldn't understand and a giant wooden broom with a knotty handle appeared over Sphinx. He looked up just as the straw head crushed him to the ground. All was still.

"Slash!" I exclaimed. "That was incredible! What did you do?"

"I'm pretty good at sword and sorcery games," he said, polishing his wooden fingertips. He was obviously pleased, and so was I. He just saved my life.

I got up and dusted myself off. "Slash, you are all kinds of awesome, man!"

"Really?" he asked it as if it were the first compliment anybody had paid him.

"Yeah!" I put out my fist. "Come on, ring that bell." He looked at his own fist, at first unsure of what I meant, then he balled it and hit it against my own. "That's what I'm talkin' 'bout."

(Okay, it was corny, it was geeky as all get out, but I was happy, relieved, and completely oblivious to how I was acting. But it made Slash's day. So sue me.)

Then the broom was thrown aside by Sphinx's giant pincers, and the moment was spoiled. The virus charged us. Slash and I took different directions. Sphinx was madder at Slash so it decided to go after him. Slash is no good when the pressure is really on, i.e. when he's being chased by a very big, very angry virus. So I turned around and ran after them even though I knew I had no way of helping Slash when Sphinx got to him.

By this time Hack had recovered and was up and about. When he saw Slash running for him with Sphinx two steps behind, he panicked and started running toward the sampler, arms waving in the air, screaming in terror like a ten-year-old who's just seen his parents doing the undercover tango.

I stopped where I was and yelled for Hack to stop. He was leading them right back to the sampler. I was too late. Sphinx knocked both droids aside like paper dolls caught in a whirlwind and stopped in front of the machine. He raised his stinger above his head and plunged it into the sampler.

I recognized the signs of viral takeover as an aura of violet energy began emanating from the sampler. There was an explosion of white light. I shut my eyes as I felt a strong wind push me on my back, knocking the air out of me. Then I passed out.

The last thing I remember thinking was, _And it was such a nice morning._


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2: Hollywoodland**

When I came to I felt a warm breeze across my face and the sound of traffic in the distance. It took a few moments for memory to kick in, and I remembered where I was and what had happened. I sat up and opened my eyes and looked around. What I saw made me blink a few times. Either that explosion had scarred my retinas, or somebody had messed with the Technicolor because all around me, the color of the buildings, the sky, the color of the environment in general was dull. It was like looking through a filter and having the vibrancy of the colors toned down.

I looked at my clothes and found I was not immune to the transformation. My orange, button-down shirt looked dingy, although not dirty, and my brown pants almost looked black. My first thought was that the system might have suffered some catastrophic event because of the explosion. I got to my feet and started walking. I wasn't sure where I was headed. I think I was in shock or something because my mind wasn't really registering the world around me. I thought I had seen everything, but not even the experience of time travel compared to what had happened to Mainframe. (And I was only seeing a piece of the whole disaster.)

I walked in a daze along a sidewalk, taking note of the landscape. Beverly Hills was Mainframe's "glamour" sector. It was home to the rich and famous and was the seat of the system's entertainment industry. The first thing I noticed, besides the grayscale, was the altered landscape. Beverly Hills had been completely transformed. It looked like a city unto itself with office buildings, boulevards, and off in the distance I saw a small range of mountains. On the side of this range was a familiar row of large white letters.

HOLLYWOODLAND.

I stood looking at the sign for a few minutes, trying to figure out what was going on. As Enzo might have said, everything had gone completely random. I started walking again, searching for anything I might have recognized.

There was a vintage feel to the place. There were ground cars moving along asphalt roads, which was odd because cars in Mainframe were capable of flying. They were all classic automobiles; I recognized two Lincoln Continentals, a couple of Coupe deVilles, several Mercuries, and a few other models that would make my Uncle Dale — he's a true car enthusiast — drool.

Somehow Beverly Hills, perhaps even the whole system, had been transformed into a version of my own reality's Hollywood, California in a time period between 1930 and the later 1940s. The only thing that could explain all this was the explosion. The game cube must have somehow altered the environmental parameters of the whole system. But I didn't know how. I couldn't think. Being in such an unreal situation was making me panic. I had to sit down somewhere and gather my wits. I had to slow my mind down and think.

I stopped paying attention to where I was going and I accidentally bumped into a binome.

"Watch it, buddy!" he said angrily, then he passed on by.

"Sorry," I said, but he didn't wait around for an apology. It took a few nanoseconds before a thought registered and the light in my brain finally clicked on. "Hey, wait a sec," I called to the binome and ran after him. He must have been ignoring me because he didn't stop. Only when I got close did he whirl around and eye me with an expression that would have made a normal person think twice before asking him the kinds of questions I was about to put to him.

"What do you want?" he said, obviously perturbed.

"I just need to know what happened," I said.

"What happened where?" he said.

"Here. The explosion. Didn't you see it?"

"I didn't see no explosion," the binome said. "What are you, drunk or sumthin'?"

"I'm talking about the game cube." He looked at me blankly. "Big purple thing, comes down from the sky. It landed in this sector a few microseconds ago."

The binome shook is head, dipped into his pocket, and handed me a crisp one dollar bill. "Here, get yourself somethin' to eat, then check yourself into a clinic or whatever. There's one on the corner of Santa Monica and East 7th. Now buzz off before I call the cops." He took one more look at me, then shook his head again and walked off.

I looked at the dollar in my hand, then back at the binome, then back at the dollar. What in the name of God was going on here? I spent the next few minutes asking other passersby about the game cube, as well as the condition of the rest of Mainframe, but their responses were just as befuddled as the first binome I'd talked to. It was as if everyone had lost their memory of Mainframe. Instead, as far as they were concerned, they were living in Los Angeles and always had.

Apparently I was raising some alarms because a few minutes later a police car pulled up next to the sidewalk. Two uniformed police officers stepped out and walked toward me. They were wearing the old-style tunics and military-style caps.

They were sprites, not binomes like most CPU patrolmen in Mainframe. One was older than the other. I could tell by the three blue chevrons on his sleeve he was a sergeant. I thought I could see white in his sideburns, but the color around me, or rather the lack thereof, made it hard to be certain. He must have been in his late forties or early fifties. His face was doughy with plenty of lines. His partner was younger and taller, probably in his twenties.

"Evenin'," said the sergeant. He had a distinct Irish brogue.

"Evening," I replied casually.

"Might I ask what you're doin' out here, sur?" he asked.

I had to think fast. Trouble with the law was the last thing I needed. "Ah, well, I'm not from here, you see. I just flew into LAX a few hours ago from Washington D.C."

"Oh, did'ja now?" asked the sergeant amusedly. I was making it up, but it sounded believable. At least I thought it did. The sergeant continued talking. "Well, we've been getting' reports of a crazy walkin' up and down this street a' buggerin' people with all sorts a' gibberish."

I made it seem as if it was all just a misunderstanding. I put on my best victimized tourist routine, cleared up the problem with a made-up story about being mugged when I couldn't produce any identification, and hoped it sounded believable.

Apparently, I overdid it. They "asked' me to come with them down to the station where I could fill out a report. I figured it would look pretty suspicious if I didn't seem interested in getting my fictional wallet and money back, so I went with them. During the drive I saw a small sticky calendar on the dashboard. The date was May 1953. I looked out the window, noting the absence of detail from the environment. I had visited Los Angeles once before a few years earlier while attending a conference at the UCLA. I recognized some of the streets and local landmarks, but most of the city was featureless, as if the same buildings were being used over and over again.

That's when it hit me. Games had the same layout. It seemed my worst fears were confirmed. Mainframe had undergone some kind of metamorphosis where the whole system was running like a game cube.

 _I should have stayed home today_ , I thought wearily. Of course, at that time, I didn't know the true extent of the damage.

We pulled up to the Hollywood Stationhouse of the LAPD. It was a white brick building, six or seven stories high with a wide concrete staircase leading up to the front double doors. The two officers escorted me inside and took me past the reception desk into a room with metal desks lined head-to-head in rows of four. It was like being in a real police station. Against the east wall were wide, wooden framed windows with antique roll shades. The opposite wall was covered with bulletin boards tacked with sheets from crime reports, pictures, and other information. In the back was a row of offices, probably reserved for senior supervisors.

The two officers escorting me sat me down at a desk and the younger officer began writing down my statement. I had to make up a few more details, but he didn't question my story. It was obvious by now I wasn't a "crazy." When I finished he took the paper and left the desk, telling me to wait a few more minutes until he got back. I relaxed and tried to clear my head. Then I heard an all too familiar voice.

"So you think the Red Sox are cursed?" I turned to the source of the voice and almost fell out of my seat.

He had his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, using his index finger to hold onto it at the collar. He had a badge clipped to his belt, and in a shoulder holster I saw a .38 revolver. The overall tint of the environment made his blue skin a little less vibrant, and his silver hair seem less polished, but there was no mistaking the man in the charcoal gray suit. It was Bob, transformed by the game!

"They've lost the World Series every year since '20," said another sprite. The two were talking about baseball. "It's the Curse of the Bambino, I tell ya."

"Or they're just a lousy team," Bob replied.

"Watch it, Dash," warned the other sprite. "I grew up in Boston. You're treadin' on insult."

"Do yourself a favor," Bob said, "and be a Dodgers fan." Bob turned away, grinning, while the other officer frowned and muttered something under his breath.

Bob sat down at a desk across from the one I was sitting at. I couldn't believe my eyes. I wanted to feel happy and relieved that I'd finally found somebody I recognized. Unfortunately, I only felt marginally curious. For all I knew the Bob I knew was gone forever, replaced by this character named Dash something or other. Even if I spoke to him, he wouldn't recognize me. His memory was just as warped as everybody else's.

Still, I thought, maybe I could get some information. Maybe the damage is only limited to Beverly Hills. Maybe the rest of the system is okay.

My thoughts were interrupted by a tremor. The building began to shake as an earthquake rippled through the sector. Everyone in the room looked around as the overhead lights began to flicker. Anything not weighed or bolted down fell to the floor. Then the tremor stopped.

"It wasn't even a 4," said one cop. Everyone shrugged it off and resumed their work.

"That's Los Angeles for you," Bob said to me. "Every five minutes there's quake."

"Keeps you on your toes, though," I replied. Maybe if I played this right I could strike up a conversation.

"Yeah. You're right," he said, grinning. He looked at me squarely, then added, "Do I know you?"

For an instant I saw a glimmer of hope. Maybe there was some piece of the real Bob still there. In this case, though, I decided to play coy. I didn't need to mess this up. "I'm not sure," I said. "I know your face." I took a gamble here on the character's shortened name. "Dashiell something, right?"

That's when it hit me. I had no idea what Bob's real last name was.

"Yeah, Dashiell Chandler," Bob said, leaning toward me. "Who are you?"

"Kevin Sawyer," I said.

My mind shouted, _It worked!_ Bob's name came from two authors I adored as a kid: Dashiell Hamnet and Raymond Chandler, two icons of detective fiction. My sprit was beginning to lift a little.

"Kevin Sawyer," Bob repeated, trying to remember if he knew me. "I can't remember where I know you from."

I had to think fast. "We were at the Academy together." It was another gamble. Bob had been educated at the Guardian Academy in the Supercomputer. I was hoping the game reality had only changed the surface of things. Again, I got lucky.

"You were at the Point?" he asked.

"West Point, yeah," I said. "I was a plebe when you were an upperclassman. Class of '42."

"No foolin'? I figured I'd seen you before."

I was on a roll, and I was in familiar territory. The Air Force Academy and West Point were bitter football rivals. I remembered going with my family to watch the Falcons take on the Black Knights for the Commander-in-Chief's trophy back when my father was still an instructor at the Air Force Academy.

Bob and I rose and shook hands like old friends. The young street cop who took my statement returned and handed me a copy of the report. He said they would call me if they found my wallet.

"Got into some trouble?" asked Bob.

"Yeah. Creep stole my wallet."

"Aw, man, that's awful. Y'know we do our best, but there's only so many of us."

"Don't sweat it," I said. "I'll survive."

"So what brings you here?"

"I'm in town for a conference at the UCLA," I said. "I'm a scientist."

"Regular Einstein, huh?" Bob asked with a smile.

"Something like that," I replied jovially.

"Look, I get off duty in a few minutes. How about I buy you a meal? We can talk over a burger."

"Sounds good. I wouldn't want to impose."

He raised a hand. "Forget it. Us Army brats gotta stick together. Gimme a minute."

I waited in the lobby until Bob came out. We left the stationhouse and walked to a parking lot where his 262 convertible had transformed into a blue 1953 Corvette Roadster. It was a beautiful car, and unlike its counterpart, it actually ran.

We ate at a small diner on Fairfax Avenue. Bob had a hamburger steak while I had a cheeseburger and fries. The game reality had changed a lot of things, even the food. There were no energy shakes or data chips here. It was like eating at a restaurant on Earth.

Bob and I talked about our days at the Point. My father was a history instructor at the Air Force Academy when I was growing up. I sort of knew how military academy life went, so I managed to muddle my way through the conversation without having to go into specifics. When I did, I managed to make up a story that seemed to make sense.

"So what did you end up doing during the war?" Bob asked.

He meant World War II. At this point my curiosity started getting the better of me. I wanted to see how far the game reality had altered Mainframe. I had pretty accurate knowledge of that period, but most of it revolved around the Army Air Corps. Being home schooled as a kid, and my father being a military history professor, he made sure I was educated in the area of war.

"First it was flight training in Pensacola," I replied. "Then I got a sweet little Curtis P40 named Wilma and flew her in the Pacific Theater. I flew escort for _Enola Gay_ when they dropped the bomb."

"I'll bet that was something else," Bob said. "I was in France for most of the war, artillery brigade. After the Marines took Normandy I was attached to a civil engineering outfit and sent to Berlin until the war ended."

It was an interesting conversation. I didn't know how the game environment could be so detailed. There had to be an extra element at work in the background I wasn't aware of. Maybe it was just coincidence. There was information in the Mainframe archives that perhaps the new reality had used in some way to weave a whole history parallel to my own.

When we were finished eating, we walked back outside. The sun was setting over the horizon, the sky a fiery orange. I had never seen a sunset in Mainframe because the system didn't have a sun. I wondered if night would bring out the familiar stars of home.

"It's been real, Sawyer," Bob said. "Can I give you a lift to your hotel?"

I didn't have a hotel. At this point I was completely at my wit's end. I needed to stay with Bob a bit longer. I had hoped to convince him of what was happening and where we really were, but I had no evidence, nothing with which I could sway him to believe his life right now was a fabrication. Still, I had to try something.

"I'd appreciate a ride," I said. "I'm staying at the Holiday Inn on Mulholland."

"All right," he said as we moved to his car. "I need to pick someone up first, but after that I can drive you there."

I thanked him, wondering in the back of my mind who we were going to pick up.

Bob and I arrived at a small house in Echo Park. Bob got out and walked up to the door. He knocked and was greeted by a young woman with auburn hair. He seemed to be calling on someone. The woman retreated back inside the house, calling for someone. Then I got my next big surprise. I saw Dot walk outside. She was wearing a mid-length pink skirt, white blouse, and a pink jacket. She had a thin white scarf around her neck, tucked into the jacket. This Dot was a classy dame.

* * *

"Classy dame?" asked Vivian. "Who are you, Humphrey Bogart?"

"Well, it was a Bogey kind of environment," Kevin said.

"You were really enjoying yourself, weren't you?"

"I might have had a little fun while it lasted. After this, everything started going to the dogs."

* * *

Dot and Bob shared a long, intimate kiss before she took his arm and he led her over to the car. I got out, offering her the front seat.

"Gail," Bob said, "this is Kevin Sawyer. He and I were at West Point together."

"How do you do, Mr. Sawyer," said Dot. I shook her hand gently, noticing the diamond engagement ring on her third finger.

"I'm very well, thank you," I replied.

"Gail, Kevin here is a scientist. He had a run-in with a vandal today, and lost his wallet. I told him we'd take him back to his hotel."

"Oh, why, that's horrible," Dot said.

"It happens," I said. "I really appreciate everything Dash has done. I don't want to hold you folks up any more, though. Shall we?" I opened Dot's door for her and helped her in. I hopped into the backseat.

We drove out of Echo Park and got onto Santa Monica Boulevard. The sun had set, and indeed, the stars were out, but I also noticed they weren't twinkling, and they didn't form any of the recognizable constellations. They were like everything else in this environment: Purely esthetic.

"I think we've got a tail," Bob said.

"Dash?" Dot asked.

"The black coupe. It's been following us since we got on Santa Monica."

I looked back behind us and saw the car. I could make out two figures inside, but their features were hidden by their headlights. We got off Santa Monica, and turned onto Slater Street. We drove through the city. I knew what Bob was doing. He was testing our followers to see if they were indeed tailing us. They were, and I felt my heart start to race as Bob drove us into Downtown L.A.

"Sawyer, you good with a piece?" asked Bob.

"You think they mean to cause that kind of trouble?" I asked.

"I mean to cause that kind of trouble," Bob said. "Bullock thinks he can hassle me? I don't think so. Gail, give Sawyer the spare."

Dot opened the glove compartment and pulled out a Colt .45 and handed it to me. Again, I owed it to my father for my knowledge of guns as well. It was a Government Model 1911. It held seven shots in the magazine plus one in the chamber. It had been the official sidearm of the U.S. military until the early eighties. My father had taught me to shoot with one just like it.

"It's my old service pistol," Bob said. "It's always nice to have a backup."

I checked the magazine. It was fully loaded. The parts were well lubricated and cleaned. It was ready to use, but I repressed the urge to prime the chamber. Bob reached into his jacket and pulled out his revolver and laid it in his lap.

"Gail, honey, I'm gonna need you to duck down when we stop. Things might get ugly."

And they did. The coupe rammed us from behind, knocking us forward violently.

"So they wanna play rough. I'll give 'em rough." Bob floored the gas, accelerating us forward. We put a good fifty yards between us and our pursuers when Bob let off the pedal and spun us around, tires screeching. We were now facing down the street we had just come. The coupe was stopped, its occupants waiting. Bob roared the engine. Dot buckled her seatbelt.

"That's probably a good idea," Bob said.

I sat back and buckled my own. "What are you planning to do?" I asked.

"Plan?" Dot asked. "He doesn't _plan_ anything. This is just him improvising."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," I said.

I looked back to Bob, who was grinning evilly. He threw the car into gear and we were racing toward the black coupe. The coupe's driver got scared, and threw his car into reverse, backing away as fast as it would go. Bob got bumper to bumper with the coupe and aimed his .38 with his left hand, keeping his right on the wheel. He fired two shots at the front passenger tire. The first shot missed, but the second blew out the tire. The rim sparked as it met the road. The man in the passenger seat leaned out the window and aimed his own weapon. Bob saw this, and rammed the coupe. The goon was thrown off balance, and Bob fired another shot, nailing the attacker in the arm.

Bob floored the gas again and we pushed the coupe down the street. He managed to guide the coupe into a telephone pole, veering away just as the back of the car crashed into the wooden post. The telephone pole cracked and splintered, toppling over and coming down upon the cab, folding it like a taco down the middle. We were stopped, thirty feet away on the other side of the street. Bob got out, shaking the spent shells out of his revolver's chamber and replacing them with fresh cartridges. I got out as well, the .45 clutched in my hand. It was an unfamiliar weight, but I felt my hand rack the slide. The chamber was loaded. I felt slightly better.

I heard a piece of glass shatter. Someone inside the coupe was trying to break through the ruined windshield. A shot rang out and ricocheted off the hood of the Corvette.

"Gail, get down!" shouted Bob as he dove right.

I hit the deck and rolled as a barrage of hot lead tore up the asphalt in front of me. I laid on my stomach and aimed at the coupe. I saw a shape moving in the passenger side. I fired twice at the crushed window. I must have got lucky and hit something because I heard a loud curse and the gunfire stopped. I leapt up but kept low and stuck to the shadows. I circled around until I got close enough to see inside the car. I couldn't see the driver, but there was a guy trapped against the front passenger door, the one who'd taken a few potshots at me and Bob.

In the back I could make out two other shapes moving around, trying to get free. They pounded on the rear left door fiercely, trying to make the metal give. They would've had better luck kicking open the door to a bank vault. The door was bent and folded to the point where it couldn't even swing on its hinges. That's when they finally noticed the rear window was totally crushed. They abandoned the door and crawled out the opening. That's when I saw what I'd mistaken for two people was actually one gigantic person that made Andre the Giant look like one of the seven dwarves. He was massive, close to ten feet tall, and built like Goliath.

He had a face like a cinder block, square, flat and featureless. Even the nose was so stubby, I wondered if it even had any cartilage in it at all. He was dressed all in black, and he looked angry. He went to the passenger door and tore it off, the metal barely protesting his superhuman strength. I looked at the Colt in my hand and wondered if it was really as puny as it seemed or if I was just imagining it.

I saw Bob leap out of the bushes on the other side of the road, gun ready and shouting at the cinder block. He abandoned his attempt at rescuing his pinned accomplice and concentrated on Bob. He made his way out into the street. He almost looked like he was stalking Bob without any fear of being shot. That's when I left my own hiding place and took the Weaver stance with my sights lined up on the block's melon-sized cranium. Even with the kick of a .45 to consider, it was impossible for me to miss.

"Sawyer, where'd you come from?" asked Bob.

"What, did you think I'd cut tail and run out on you? Us Army guys gotta stick together."

"Touching," croaked the block. "Which one of you wants to die first?"

"Buddy," I said, "I don't know if you've noticed, but you've got two guns pointed at you. Unless you're made of Kevlar, I'd suggest you seriously reconsider your situation."

Before I knew what hit me, I felt the blunt end of something cold and metallic crack my head open like a hard boiled egg. Stars burst in front of my eyes and I went down. The next thing I knew I was kissing pavement with a size twenty-something shoe pressing against my skull. I think I knew what it felt like to be a grapefruit just before the big squeeze. I wanted to tell Quasimodo to take it easy with the bell-ringing because it wasn't helping the throbbing organ between my ears.

A few minutes must have passed because after that I felt Bob shaking me.

"Sawyer. C'mon, Sawyer, I need you up."

I opened my eyes and moaned. I felt like every muscle in my body had disconnected from every other muscle in my body.

"You're alive!" said Bob. "Thank God."

He helped me sit up slowly. I reached around and touched the tender area behind my head. I was bleeding. Bob handed me a folded handkerchief, and I pressed it to the wound. The soft cotton felt like a hot iron and stars blurred my vision again.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Frankenstein's monster was stalling," Bob said. "The guy in the passenger seat wormed his way out of the car after he tore the door off. He clocked you on the back of the head with a tire iron."

"Guess I'm lucky he didn't shoot me," I said. "Help me up."

If I'd been asked to take a sobriety test just then I'd have failed miserably. I couldn't control my legs and the rest of my body wanted to sag to the ground like a bag of potatoes. Bob led me over to his car where he put me in the backseat.

"I'll get you to a doctor," Bob said as he got behind the wheel. I felt rather than heard the engine roar to live and we lurched into motion. It was then I realized we were missing someone.

"Bob, where's Dot?" I asked.

"Where's who?" Bob asked.

"Dot. Did we leave her?"

I didn't realize what I was saying. Bob must have thought I'd had the sense knocked out of me, but he understood what I meant.

"They took Gail," he said. "That sonofabitch Bullock took her as leverage. I swear by the Virgin if he so much as lays a hand on her I'll send him to see St. Peter myself."

"Then we're going to need a bigger gun," I said. "Like an elephant gun, because that gargoyle looks like he can take a cannon."

"It's not your problem, Sawyer. I appreciate everything you did back there, but this isn't your fight. These bozos are playing for keeps, see? Hell, I've seen them do things that would make the Red Army blush. You've gotta get away, man. Get away and stay away. They don't know you, so you should be safe."

"They know me now," I said. "The cinder block had his shoe pressed to my face for all of ten minutes by my reckoning. That makes me just as much a target as you. And from the looks of things, you can use all the help you can get."

"I can't ask you to do that, Sawyer," Bob said.

"You don't have to. It's what friends are for."

About an hour later I was getting looked at by a police doctor. He gave me a few aspirin tablets and told me I had a concussion, but there was no fracture and no sign of intracranial bleeding. I was going to live to fight another day. He bandaged me up and sent me on my merry.

Bob drove us to a gas station on the Interstate where I bought some new clothes to replace my bloody garments. I looked more period than I had before. When I came out, I saw Bob in the telephone booth, having what looked like a heated conversation. He slammed the receiver down and stepped out.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"That was a contact," Bob said. "He works for the newspaper but moonlights as a private dick. We need to meet with him. In the meantime, I'll fill you in on what's going on."

We got on the Interstate and headed back toward the city.

"Ever heard of Gerhard Bullock?" asked Bob.

"Should I have?"

"He's a mob boss from the East Coast, supposedly connected to the Bertelli family in Jersey. He started out as a low level operator for the family's shop in L.A., then he decided to go independent. He took over all the Bertelli family's assets on the West Coast in one massive coup and single-handedly became L.A.'s biggest kingpin almost overnight. Only problem is, he's a ghost. Nobody's ever seen him. They call him the Grim Reaper because the only time anybody gets a glimpse of his face is just before he nixes them."

"Doesn't he have hit men for things like that?" I asked.

"Bullock's old school. He likes to get his hands dirty every once in a while to put the fear of the Almighty in his cronies."

"To keep anyone from trying to nix him like he nixed the Bertellis."

"Exactly. His operation is massive; insurance fraud, extortion, blackmail, drugs, guns, gambling, prostitution. Any and everything that's conducive to big money and short living."

"And he's in control of all the crime on the West Coast?" I asked.

"That's what I've been trying to find out. About a year ago one of my snitches tells me a bunch of the small-timers are getting bought out by a high-roller from Trenton. Sounds like Bullock. I open a case and start poking my nose in some sensitive areas. The next week the case gets shelved, and I get investigated by Internal Affairs. I get the message and lay off, but I hand everything over to this reporter at the _Times_. We start working on the investigation together, and we uncover some major dirt. Bullock's in deep, and I mean balls deep. He owns every member of the city council, a few circuit court judges; he's even got the District Attorney and the Commissioner under his thumb."

"So what were you planning to do? If he owns the DA, how would you prosecute him?"

"Easy. Give the hangman enough rope, he'll hang himself. I get my reporter friend to put Bullock's number two under the microscope, the big lug whose shoe you had the pleasure of getting up close and personal with this evening. Seems like he wasn't careful enough because Bullock would never send him after me unless he was desperate. He let me go, you see, back there tonight. Bullock wants the evidence I've collected on him and his whole gang. He took Gail as a bargaining chip."

"Sounds like you've got him backed into a corner," I said. "What kind of evidence did you get on him?"

"We connected him with just about every dirty deed that's gone down between San Diego and Sacramento for the past two years, but the nail in the coffin came when the reporter caught a picture of him and the lummox breaking the knees of a city alderman and finally putting a cap between his eyes."

"Ouch. Incriminating. Okay, so what do we do?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not much of a plan man. Got any ideas?"

I pulled out the Colt and weighed it in my hand. I ejected the clip. I'd spent two rounds. I opened the glove box and found some spare shells. I pushed two into the magazine and slammed it home.

"I say we go shoot some bad guys," I said.

"Y'know, Sawyer. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Bob parked the car across the street from a dark alleyway between a Laundromat and an advertising agency. We walked into the darkness of the alley and stopped when we reached the dead end.

"Now we wait," Bob said.

We didn't have to wait long. A lone figure entered the mouth of the alley and approached us. Only when he crossed a thin strip of light from an upper window did I recognize him.

"Mike?" I asked without thinking. He was wearing a fedora and trench coat.

He looked at me, then at Bob. "Who's the Poindexter?"

"Poindexter?" I asked. "How did you..."

"It's his thing," Bob said. "He likes to channel Sherlock Holmes through his magnifying glass."

"Let's cut the chatter," Mike said. "What's the deal, Dash?"

"It's Gail. Bullock took her."

"Damn," muttered Mike. "Was it the shipyard that tipped him off?"

"It musta been, 'cause I didn't go anywhere near that alderman," Bob said.

"What's he want?"

"Whadda ya think? He wants the evidence."

"Do you realize what's at stake here?" asked Mike. "We have a real chance to bring down the Grim Reaper. This is worth more than your girlfriend."

"I dare you to say that again, Chuck," Bob said darkly.

"For once try to think of the bigger picture, Dash," said Mike. "What's one life compared to bringing down Gerhard Bullock?"

"This isn't just any life, it's Gail. _My Gail_."

Mike looked like he was getting seriously angry, which was strange to me because I'd never known him to be the enraged type.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking you're the only one who's lost someone to Bullock," he said. "We've all gotta make sacrifices." He didn't sound like he really meant it.

"That's real heroic of you, Chuck," Bob said. "You shoulda been a cop."

Mike narrowed his eyes, two black arrowheads floating inside his square TV head. "I'll give you the photos of the murder. Without that we don't have near as big a case against him." He handed Bob a manila folder. "Here. Maybe it'll be enough."

"I could use your help, Chuck," Bob said.

Mike shook his head. "He still doesn't know I'm the one working the case with you. I need to maintain my anonymity or else he'll send Dorian to break me in two."

"I get it," Bob said. "Thanks for this."

"Don't mention it. _Ever_."

Bob parked the roadster behind a club called The Lounge. It was an ostentatious place that looked like it belonged in Vegas. Red, blue, and green neon lights framed a marquis hanging over a red carpet facade with brass poles, velvet chords, and a doorman dressed in a sharkskin suit.

"I think I'm a little overdressed," I said sarcastically.

"We're not going in the front door." He pointed at the fire escape zigzagging up the side of the building.

We climbed up to the roof where I saw a few skylights that opened up into different parts of the club. Bob brought along a rope from the trunk of his car and tied one end to a metal pipe sticking up out of the roof. We slid down the rope through one of the skylights and ended up behind a stage. I could hear the sound of chatter and activity behind the closed curtain, so I assumed we were in the ballroom. The floor seemed to be set up for a jazz band.

"Where do we need to go?" I asked.

"Follow me," Bob said.

We made our way down a small flight of stairs and into a hallway that ran the length of the building. I could see doors on either side of the corridor which led off into dressing rooms. At the very back were a set of double door that led into a kitchen. He went through the doors and found a rack of white uniforms for busboys and waiters and such. We quickly ducked into the men's room and changed into the white uniforms.

In the ballroom I saw that the place was just beginning to fill up with patrons.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked.

"Stick to the walls and the corners. Try and look busy. Keep an eye out for Dorian, the gargoyle. He's got a special table over there." He nodded to the front of the ballroom to the table closest to the stage.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"I'm going to check in the back. Bullock's got an office somewhere in this club. Be careful."

"Ditto."

For the next twenty minutes I did exactly as Bob said. I grabbed a drink tray and pretended I was serving the guests. They didn't really pay much attention to me, and I thought it might be because I wasn't affected like the others trapped in this "game grid." I couldn't reboot in a game, and according to Matrix, game characters usually ignored people who didn't reboot because they technically weren't part of the game environment. Unless I directly interacted with a character or characters I could pass through this world as inconspicuously as a ghost. As long as I didn't bump into anyone or make a public spectacle of myself, I'd be just fine.

That's when the lights dimmed and the curtain opened. A man in a tux stepped out carrying a microphone on a stand.

"Welcome to The Lounge, ladies and gents. We've got a special treat for you tonight. A new talent for your pleasure. The prettiest wallflower from the Mayor's Office. Miss Gail Wynand."

The curtain parted further and the announcer left the stage. The lights on stage rose and I saw Dot standing in front of the microphone in a white silk dress with a magnolia blossom in her hair. The dress hugged her body like a second skin and seemed to accentuate every curve possible. Exotic wasn't the right word to fit. Graceful, maybe. Gorgeous like Marylyn Monroe. Bob was a lucky guy.

A trumpet started playing in the background, and she started singing.

" _The look... of love... is in... your eyes... A look... your smile... can't disguise..._ "

I never knew Dot could sing. Maybe it was something her game character could do, and it had nothing to do with Dot. I didn't have time to think about it because I saw the cinder block march in from a dark corner and take his seat in front of the stage. I could see Dot's face; she was scared, but somehow her voice never broke, never wavered. On the surface she was as cool as a piece of milled steel, and I suddenly thought I might be looking at the real Dot, the one who was a vulnerable woman somewhere deep down but hid it behind a shield of intelligence and willpower. I felt sorry for the fool who ever decided to cross her.

When her song was over, Dot disappeared behind the curtain with an uproar of applause. Dorian got up and left the ballroom through a door next to the stage. I followed him, patting the Colt in my pant's pocket for reassurance.

I saw him go up the stairs to the side stage entrance and followed him after watching him go through. I remembered when I was a little kid, my father teaching my brother and me how to play kick-the-can, hide-and-seek, and capture-the-flag in the dark. I was too young to realize it at the time, but it was really Survival Evasion Resistance and Escape training. All fighter pilots had to go through it in case they ever ended up behind enemy lines after being shot down. He was grooming us to follow in his footsteps one day. Now was one of the few times in recent memory when I was glad of my father's unique version of child rearing.

I stuck to the shadows, careful to move on the balls of my feet to minimize the sound of my footfalls. Dorian had joined two other nondescript goons, one holding Dot, the other holding Bob at gunpoint. I saw a dark figure step out of the shadows. He was a red-skinned sprite with dark hair made into dreadlocks that ended as steel knife blades at the tips. He wore a pair of wireframe glasses with square lenses. His suit was immaculate; white dinner jacket and pants, black shirt and white tie. He wore a pair of white dinner gloves. He looked distinctly sinister.

"Detective Chandler, you have caused me a great deal of displeasure," he said in a singsong voice.

"Let the girl go, Bullock," Bob said. "She's got nothing to do with this."

Dorian slammed his sledgehammer fist into Bob's solar plexus. I winced, clutching my own stomach. He doubled over in pain and sagged to his knees. The goon put the gun to his temple.

"Nobody speaks to Mr. Bullock unless spoken to, cop," said Dorian. His voice was like a hoarse whisper being forced through a narrow tube.

"Now, I want all the information you've gathered on me and my people, including the photos your sidekick took of that arrogant alderman's demise at the docks."

"I've got the pictures," Bob said. "In my jacket."

Dorian found the envelope and pulled out the photos. He nodded.

"Are these the only copies?" asked Bullock.

"Yes," Bob said.

"I don't believe you," the crime boss said. "And anyway, I want the rest of your evidence. Everything."

"I don't have it."

"That's unfortunate. I don't usually like beating women; it's unbecoming of a gentleman. That's why I have Dorian." He nodded at Dot, and the gargoyle grasped her by the throat. "Tell me who you're working with, and I'll spare her life... for a little while anyway."

At this point, I had to do something. I looked around for anything that might give me an edge. I saw Dorian and the goons were standing under a series of heavy sandbags held aloft by a rope and pulley system. I was standing right next to the hooks they were tied to. One thing about game mechanics I'd learned from AndrAIa was that only certain objects in the environment could be used to accomplish an objective while the rest was just for show. I pulled every hook out of the wall. The only three that came down were the ones right above Dorian and the goons. They all hit the ground with a heavy thud. Bob sprang up and knocked the gun out of Bullock's hand as he tried to draw it. I came out of my hiding place, the Colt in my hand. I pistol whipped the Grim Reaper across the temple, and he went down like the rest of his posse.

"Cutting it kinda close, arench'ya, pal?" Bob asked.

"It worked, didn't it?" I said. "Are you alright, Dot... uh, I mean Gail?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Nice job with the sandbags."

"It was a lucky thing where they were standing," I said. "Somebody up there must really like us."

"Let's not push our luck," she said, grabbing both guns from the two fallen goons. She held one in each hand. "We need to get underground fast."

"Wait, I thought it was over," I said. "We've got the photos back. Let's just take Bullock to the police, and give them all the evidence."

"There isn't a prosecutor in the state that'll take on Bullock," said Dot. "If we're going to fight back, we'll need to go federal, all the way to J. Edgar himself."

"She's right, Sawyer," Bob said. "We need to stick this out just a little bit longer. In the meantime, he'll be sending every trigger man on his payroll after us."

"In that case, let's quit standing around and get moving," I said.

I saw a shadow rise up in front of me. I turned around and saw the thing named Dorian towering over me. Up close and personal, he looked like a brick wall more than just a cinder block. He knew who got the drop on him.

"That... hurt."

"You kinda had it coming."

He picked me up like a child and threw me across the room. I watched as Bob and Dot emptied all their rounds into his body, and still he didn't go down. I got back up, ignoring the pain in my bones. I raised my Colt and emptied my clip into him. He finally got tired and fell down.

"He must have really been made out of Kevlar," I said.

We got out of there. Bob drove us out of the city. Within an hour we hit the desert and kept heading east, leaving the sparkling city behind us. Little did I know that we had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3: The Night of the Steampunk Menace**

Kevin and Vivian moved into the living room. Kevin was stretched out on the couch, his eyes droopy and distant. Vivian occupied the recliner in the corner next to the reading lamp. They both sipped on cups of Earl Gray with milk and lemon, Vivian's favorite.

"So what happened next?" she asked.

"Hm?" Kevin roused himself out of his drowsy state. "Where was I?"

"You were leaving Los Angeles in Bob's car," said Vivian. "You'd hit the desert."

"Oh, right. Yea. Well, it wasn't long before I realized the disaster wasn't centered within Beverly Hills. It looked like the whole system was in trouble. We drove for less than an hour before something completely unexpected happened. We ran into another sector."

* * *

I had taken the wheel. At first all I saw was a stretch of road running all the way toward the horizon then it was like we drove through a waterfall. It's hard to explain it really. It wasn't there until we ran into it, an invisible wall of water separating one sector from another. It was literally like crossing over into another universe. The desert disappeared, and in front of us was a rocky path with nothing but bushes and trees on either side.

The car was changed, too. It became a horse and buggy at almost the same instant we crossed the invisible threshold. I was holding the reins to a pair of plow horses, and we were bouncing along the path as if we had been on it all along.

"What in the hell?" I head Bob shout.

I pulled on the reins and stopped the horses. Our clothes had changed, too. We were dressed like frontiersmen. Dot's white silk gown became a black and crimson cotton and lace dress with a wide-brimmed bonnet. Bob wore chaps, a white cotton shirt and a cowboy hat with boots and spurs. I was wearing a long duster and vest with a bolo tie around my collar and a six-shooter in a leather holster strapped around my waist. On my hands were cattleman's gloves, and my hat was a tan leather slouch with the left half of the brim pinned to the crown, just like the old volunteer calvary officers used to do.

I was just as surprised by our transformation as Bob and Dot. I had at the very least hoped it was only one game environment spread over the whole system. Now, it looked like I had multiple games running in different sectors. This was not turning out to be an easy day.

"What's going on, Dash?" asked Dot. "Why do we look like this? And what happened to the car?"

"I think this _is_ the car," I said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Bob.

"It means the worst case scenario just became _the_ scenario," I said.

I jumped out of the wagon and walked down the path we had just come. I picked up a rock and threw it through the air. Sure enough I saw the energy field flicker and change color as the rock passed through it, a hidden barrier visible only when something passed through it. On the other side, no doubt, was the LA noir game we were running from. Now, after crossing over into a new sector, we'd entered a new game. I couldn't even begin to guess how this was happening. I needed to find someone, anyone, who could tell me what was going on, someone who remembered Mainframe. My prospects were not looking so good, though.

"Sawyer, what is going on?" Bob asked. "You know more than you're letting on, I can tell."

"You're right," I said. "I do know more than I've told you, but I don't know how this is happening, I swear."

"Then tell us what you _do_ know," Bob said.

"It's complicated," I said. "It's like your world and another world, maybe a whole bunch of other worlds, are being squeezed together."

"What do you mean other worlds?" asked Dot.

"Different places, different eras, other realities that might not even exist in the real world."

"You'd better get straight with me, Sawyer," said Bob. "I'm not in any mood for games."

"That's exactly what all this is. Its a game, or rather different games overlapping each other and covering up the real universe."

"You're talkin' nonsense," Bob said, throwing up his hands and walking away.

"I know I'm doing a bad job of explaining this, but it's the best I can do. There are other realities out there, higher dimensions and planes of existence that have been inaccessible to us until now."

"I've had enough of this crazy talk," Bob said. "I've got the mind to turn this crate around and go back the way we came."

"You're right, that's exactly what you should do," I said. "On the other side of that energy field is the world you left behind. As soon as you cross it, you should both revert back to the form you were before."

"You're not coming with us?" asked Dot.

"I can't," I said. "I'm the only person who remembers the real world, which means I've got to be the one who sets things back the way they were."

"Sawyer, listen to yourself, man," said Bob. "You've gone of the deep end."

"Dash, he might be right," Dot said.

"Don't tell me you're buying into this!"

"How else can you explain it?" Dot asked. "Look at us. We've changed. We should be in the desert, but instead we're in a forest. The car changed into a wagon and a couple of mules. He must be right."

"You're both mental, you know that?"

"I liked you better when you were Bob," I said.

"Who?" he asked.

"Never mind. Look, thanks for getting me this far, but you guys can't help me, not like this. I've got to find someone who remembers Mainframe. This mess can't have touched every corner of the system."

I took what I could carry from the wagon, which wasn't much. The items in the car had been altered to conform with the new game reality. I took an extra box of ammo, a canteen of water and some gold coin from a strongbox. I watched as Bob and Dot turned the buggy around and disappeared through the field.

I was on my own again. I was in a wooded area of tall pines and maple trees. The sun was at its zenith, which put my time at midday. I had at least six hours of daylight, so I chose a direction and started walking.

An hour later, after following the trail, I came across some railroad tracks and decided to follow them. A little while later I came into a large mining town. It was Deadwood, North Dakota, one of the most famous frontier towns of the Old West. Considering my outfit and the general layout of the environment, I wasn't really surprised. The town was nestled in the narrow valley between two small mountains.

The period buildings were little more than wooden shacks piled one atop the other. I walked along the streets and sideboards until I came to a saloon. The lunch hour for the Stagecoach Inn & Saloon sounded like it was in full swing, so I pushed aside the swinging doors and marched inside. There was an authentic mechanical piano in the corner cranking out a tune on a rotating spindle and brass spittoons beside every table and along the length of the bar. A long salon mirror covered the wall behind the heavy oak counter, giving the impression of two rooms squished together with the bar in the middle. Overhead were oil lamps with glass shades hanging from the ceiling.

There were two stories to the building. Upstairs and along a balcony that overlooked the saloon were a row of wooden doors that must have led into hotel rooms. The walls were decorated with memorabilia from the town's patrons, mainly stuffed animal heads and black and white photographs in simple wooden frames. There were a dozen tables around the floor, many with games of poker and blackjack going on.

Normally, I'd never set foot in a bar, but the local tavern was the place where everybody knew everybody. My reasoning told me I was most likely to run into somebody I knew if I stuck around long enough, assuming they had been in the sector during the disaster. As it turned out, I didn't have to wait long.

I was hungry, so I went up to the bar and ordered a meal with a glass of beer so pale it made low calorie microbrew look tasty. That's when I looked over at the poker table and saw Mouse lay down a full house and take the pot with a sly grin.

"Gol'dang," said one of the players as he slapped his cards down on the table. "It's bad enough bein' beat by a stranger, but a woman..."

"Now, don't be that way, sugah," Mouse said soothingly. "After all, turnaround is fair play."

"Don't you be goin' and battin' them perdy eyes at me, missy," said the binome. "I'm a professional."

"Well, what a coincidence. So am I. Now, care to try and win some of that money back?" She shuffled the deck like an expert.

She was wearing a tan waistcoat and khaki jockey breeches with leather riding boots that covered her calves. A broach was pinned to the collar of her frilly white shirt. In the leg of her boot I saw the handle of her katana sticking out.

"I know when to cut my losses," the binome said. "I'll be sittin' this one out and any other game that has you in it."

He got up, collected his chips and walked away. I was never one to turn down a game of poker, so I offered to fill the seat. Mouse gave me a once over and smiled sweetly.

"Buy-in is five dollars," she said.

I laid out a few gold coins and got my chips. We played for a while. I ended up going head-to-head with Mouse several times. Another one of the players ended up leaving the game. He'd lost everything. He shuffled away drunk and angry and cursing under his breath. In the last hand I finally succeeded in beating Mouse's straight with a royal flush. I took the pot. It was almost five hundred dollars.

"I think you've played this game before, mister," she said.

"The name's Sawyer," I said. "Kevin Sawyer." I didn't seem to ring any bells.

"Well, Mr. Sawyer, enjoy the fruits of you labor." She got up and headed toward the exit.

"Seeing as how I came in during the middle of your game, I'd say at least half of this money is yours," I said. She turned and look at me with an amused expression. "I wouldn't be very professional if I didn't give you your rightful earnings."

"You're very generous," she said. "And how do you propose to split the pot?"

"We can talk about that over diner. My treat."

She smiled again, that sly, crooked grin that would make men blissfully fall down a flight of stairs. Then, from out of nowhere, my chair was knocked out from under me. A pair of strong hands lifted me up by by the collar of my duster, and I was brought face-to-face with the grimy mug of one of the game characters. He was the one who lost all his money during the poker game. I guess he didn't take losing too well.

"You cheat at cards," he said. There was liquor on his breath.

"I guess they haven't invented the Altoid yet."

He cocked his arm back and knocked me back with the hardest jab to the chin I'd ever felt. I stumbled back and fell against a dinner table. He came at me, but this time I was ready for him. I lunged at him, driving my shoulder into his waist and wrapped my arms around the crook of his right knee. I pulled upwards, lifting his leg while continuing to push him backwards. He tumbled to the floor and landed on his back. I ended up in the saddle position straddling his waist. A palm strike to the forehead dazed him and a right blow to the jaw knocked him out.

Suddenly, two more of his friends grabbed me under the armpits and hauled me up. One held me while the other proceeded to beat me senseless. I threw my head back and felt my crown make contact with soft tissue. It loosened his grasp long enough for me to palm strike my other assailant on the forehead. A jack kick to the solar plexus sent him down. I turned and saw the second character, the one who had been holding me-I'd given him a bloody nose-reach for his gun. I grabbed a beer mug off the bar and slammed it with all my might across his face. It shattered against his jaw, and he hit the floor, unconscious and immobilized.

I grabbed my hat and turned to leave just in time to see the marshal walk in with a Winchester rifle leveled at my stomach. I ended up spending the next half hour in a jail cell with my attackers, listening to them moan and complain in a united drunken stupor. A deputy came and opened my cell, saying my bail had been paid.

Mouse greeted me in the marshal's office. I collected my effects and we we left together, she taking my arm.

"You posted my bail?" I asked.

"I figured you could pay me back with the earnings. After all, you did agree to an even split of the pot back there. A lady needs to look out for her investments. Plus the invitation to an evening meal with a champion poker player like yourself was too good to pass up."

"In that case, m'lady," I said, "I am at your disposal. By the way, I didn't catch your name."

"Violet," she said simply.

 _Very fitting_ , I thought to myself. "Is that a Miss or a Misses?"

"Just Violet," she replied cryptically.

We ate dinner at one of the finer restaurants in Deadwood. I guessed the year was sometime around the turn of the twentieth century. The tables were covered with patterned tablecloths and lace doilies, the rooms lit by oil lamps and wax candles. The walls were covered in floral paper that looked dingy in the orange candlelight.

"What kind of work are you in to, Mr. Sawyer," she asked.

I decided to stick to the military background, only I changed the details a bit. "I was in the Army for a while. After the war I decided to come out West and see what I could find."

"What outfit were you with?" she asked.

I took a gamble and it paid off. "1st US Volunteer Calvary. I rode under Colonel Roosevelt at San Juan Hill."

"The Rough Riders," she said approvingly. "Now those were some men with true grit. I kind of figured you were a calvary officer from the hat."

"And what about you?" I asked. "I take it you don't hustle poker for a living."

"If you're going to say poker and whiskey are unbecoming hobbies for a lady, let me save you the trouble."

"I'm a pretty progressive fella," I said. "But a woman of means, like yourself, doesn't really need to gamble for money's sake alone."

"What makes you think I'm a woman of means?" she asked, obviously intrigued.

"Those riding boots of yours are brand new and custom made," I said, noticing there wasn't a speck of mud on them, and they hadn't been completely broken in. "The same goes for your riding outfit. I can't think of many women who can wear jockey trousers without visiting a tailor first. Good fashion usually comes with a high price tag, but the first thing that tipped me off was how you were willing to walk away from five hundred dollars you'd won almost single-handedly."

Her smile grew wider and wider, becoming more amused, as I explained my list of observations and deductions.

"Aren't you a regular Sherlock Holmes," Mouse said. "I must be losing my touch."

"It's obvious because you try and hide it."

"Now what could I be hiding, Mr. Sawyer? I'm the sweetest, most innocent lil' thang you'll ever meet."

"Sweet I can believe," I said. "But a smile like that could inspire a slew of sermons about the temptations of the flesh."

"I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted," she said. She didn't sound displeased in the least bit.

"Just call it an observation," I said.

After dinner, I walked her to the train station. Apparently, Mouse's character wasn't just well-off; she was flat out loaded. She had her own train waiting on a private line on the west side of the yard. The steam locomotive was hitched to two cars. The end car was like a palace, all brass fittings, polished mahogany and velvet curtains. There was leather furniture everywhere and a fireplace and mantle against the front of the car. A door to the right gave access to the forward car, which I assumed was where her living quarters were.

Mouse removed her jacket and unceremoniously threw it across the arm of the love seat.

"This is yours?" I asked, removing my slouch hat.

"More like it's on loan," she said, "but what I do with it is all up to me."

That's when she caught me by surprise and laid one on me. It must have taken a few seconds for my brain to register what was happening because I don't remember the actual kiss. I just remember her hand on my neck puling me down so she could kiss my lips.

* * *

"Hold on," Vivian broke in.

"She kissed you?" she asked. "Did you kiss her back?"

"Well...given the situation...I was kind of caught off guard..."

"Kevin, this is very important. Did. You. Kiss. Her. _Back_?"

"You have to understand, Viv, I wasn't dealing with Mouse, _per sae_ , I was dealing with her game character."

"Stop avoiding my question," Vivian snapped. "Did you, or didn't you?"

"I thought it would be awkward if I didn't, so yea. _But that's all we did!_ "

"What do you mean that's all you did?" asked Vivian. She sounded crushed and disappointed, as if she had been robbed.

"I mean all I did was kiss her," he said.

Vivian huffed. "Well, I guess it's better than nothing."

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm not a dead fish, you know."

"You're just a bloody cold one."

"That's not fair," Kevin said. "Mouse is with Ray. It would have been completely shameful if I'd taken advantage of her like that."

"It sounds like she was the one taking all the advantages," Vivian said.

"Mouse has a very... _affectionate_ personality. Just ask Bob. He'll tell you."

"We're not talking about Bob, we're talking about your state of mind."

"I was utterly mortified."

" _Kevin!_ "

"What am I supposed to say, Vivian? If steam could have shot out of my ears like a steam whistle, it would have."

"Excellent. Continue."

* * *

Now, let me clarify something. I don't share the same orbit with fast women and whiskey. Call me provincial if you like. Whatever. So when Mouse kissed me, my mind skipped a couple of seconds like a scratched record because I suddenly realized where my hands were, and I stopped myself.

"Ohhhh..." she groaned, "...what's the matter, sugah?" she asked, her voice deep and sultry.

She looked up at me with half-lidded eyes and that impish smile that seemed to make a million promises without saying a word. I knew if I didn't leave right at that instant, I'd cross the point of no return. Unfortunately, I couldn't move.

"Mouse, I mean Violet...we can't do this," I said.

"But I thought-"

"It's not you, it's me. I'm about to collapse."

I winced in pain. My body was finally succumbing to its injuries from the bar fight, effectively killing the mood.

"Oh, you poor darlin'," Mouse said.

She pushed me back until I felt my knees bump against the edge of a long leather couch. I slowly lowered myself into a seated position. Mouse unbuttoned my vest and made me shrug off my shirt. Blotchy, ugly bruises were starting to form around my ribs and abdomen. There was a sharp pain around my eye that had matured from a dull throb to an all-out knifing sensation.

"Of course...I should have realized-"

I cut her off. "Don't apologize," I said. "I feel bad enough already."

She started poking at my ribcage gently. I was enjoying her bedside manner more than I should have.

"No ribs broken, she said, "but they might be cracked."

"That explains the pain every time I breathe."

She smiled sweetly, and pulled my feet up on the couch so that I was lying down.

"You fight like a young man, but you moan and groan like your best years are already behind you."

"To quote one of my favorites, 'It's not the age; it's the mileage.'"

"That's good," she said. "I like a man with a few miles on him."

"You never slow down, do you?" I asked.

"Never. Now, where does it hurt most?"

"Everywhere from the waist up," I said.

"Like here?" She put her finger on a yellowing bruise over my bottom ribs.

"Yea." She leaned down and kissed the spot.

"What about here?" she asked, pointing to another purple bruise higher on my chest.

I swallowed and nodded. She kissed that spot, too. My body didn't know whether to be excited or fatigued, but my drooping eyelids and wandering attention span told me I was on the verge of falling asleep.

"What about here?" she asked. She softly ran her fingers across my chin.

"Uh-huh," I said, trying to fight the inevitable.

She kissed my chin. Then she kissed me again, gently, careful not to hurt my swollen bottom lip. I felt my head roll back; it had become too heavy for me to hold up. I passed out with the memory of Mouse's kiss on my lips still in my head.

The gentle rocking motion of the train roused me from my sleep. My torso had two layers of gauze bandages wrapped around it from the top of my navel to the bottom of my pecs. Someone had cleaned my wounds with water and ointment, and my clothes were folded neatly and laid out on the love seat. I had remained on the couch all night, a wool blanket draped over my body. I peeked underneath and found I still had my underwear on. I shrugged my shoulders and cast the cover aside.

I stood up, flexing my muscles and testing my body for pain. My ribs were still brutally sore, and I was grateful for the bandages covering my bruises. I probably looked like a wreck underneath. I dressed slowly. My clothes had been cleaned and pressed. I put on the shirt, pants and vest, but I left the bolo tie and the duster on the couch. I rolled up my sleeves and looked in the mirror over the mantle. The bruises around my face weren't as bad as they felt. The pain around my eye only popped up when I turned my head too fast.

Mouse came in from the forward car. She was wearing a tweed riding coat and matching jockey pants, her riding boots and a gun belt with an empty holster.

"You look better," she said. "Well, awake anyway."

As if my pride wasn't bruised enough.

"Thanks for bandaging me up," I said. I peered out the windows and saw the tree line race past as we moved along the line. "Mind if I ask where we're headed?"

"You can ride with me all the way to Cleveland," she said. "After that you'll have to arrange your own transportation."

I pointed at the empty holster. "Expecting trouble?"

"Girl's gotta be prepared," she said. Mouse walked over to the minibar and pressed a wooden lever inlaid into the table, activating a complex mechanism. The mirror slid upwards revealing a secret compartment, and the table top flipped over , presenting Mouse with an array of revolvers and other weapons.

"Let me guess," I said. "Overkill is underrated."

"Would I sound cliche is I said it was complicated?"

"Considering how my week's been going so far, no. Although I have to say I am curious."

Mouse selected an expensive-looking Remington revolver with pearl handles and nickel plating. It held eight shots, and the trigger guard had been removed.

"You any good?" Mouse asked, pointing at my gun.

"I'd almost forgotten I had it. "I manage."

"Let me see it," she said.

I handed it to her. Mouse spun the cylinder, tested its weight then twirled it around her finger like an expert gunslinger.

"Colt Peacemaker," she said. "Fine gun, but it doesn't have much style." She reached up and pulled down a Webley Mk. 3. "If the Brits know how to do anything, its gunsmithing. This is the newest model Webley. It's a breach loader, holds six .445 caliber cartridges and the cylinder is self-extracting. Cuts reloading time in half."

She handed it to me butt first.

"Does this mean we're going steady?" I asked.

"After last night, consider the slate clean," she said. "You missed your chance, so you'll have to work twice as hard if you want another."

"Why don't you tell me what the score is and I'll decide if it's worth it."

She opened a leather wallet and tossed it on the bar. I saw a silver badge with the symbol of the Treasury Department stamped in the center and the words "Secret Service" carved above and below it.

"I see what you mean by complicated."

"Consider yourself drafted," she said.

"For what?"

"I was sent here by the President to investigate the whereabouts of a man named Robur. Have you heard of him?"

"The name sounds vaguely familiar," I said.

"He's a science pirate," Mouse said. "In the same league as that sea devil Captain Nemo, only Robur is a master of the air."

"Master of the air?"

Mouse nodded. "He's the only man who knows the secret of heavier-than-air flight. His machines can defy gravity and deliver death anywhere. He calls himself the Master of the World."

 _The Master of the World_ , I thought. Jules Verne, of course! Robur was a character created by Jules Verne who was a protagonist in two of his books, one of which was titled _Master of the World_. In the novels, he was a mad genius who had discovered the principles of powered flight long before the Wright Brothers and used his flying machines it to terrorize the world. He was almost a carbon copy of Captain Nemo, only instead of menacing the seas, Robur exacted his revenge from the skies, raining chaos from above.

 _This game must revolve around Robur in some way_ , I thought. "I know who you're talking about," I said. "I thought he was dead."

"We thought so, but he's got more lives than a cat," Mouse said. "Our intelligence suggests he's planning to steal a device that's on its way to Fort Jericho from Nikola Tesla's lab in Colorado Springs."

"Tesla?" I said. "What's he got to do with this?"

"Tesla was commissioned by the War Department to build us a power source for our own aerial battleship, somethin' that could produce electricity without using a fossil fuel source. Instead, he gave us somethin' that could give us a real edge against Robur and his air ships. We'll finally be able to drive that old crow off American soil once and for all. Robur sees the device as a threat to his monopoly on air power. He'll do anything to get it for himself."

"I don't understand. What did Tesla build that could make Robur so nervous?"

"Look, the less you know, the better," Mouse said. "I had planned to go this mission alone, but I couldn't just leave you all knocked up like that."

"It's okay. I'm grateful, and I don't mind tagging along. Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

"Since I didn't turn up any leads in Deadwood, we're headed to rendezvous with the train that's carrying the device. We should meet them sometime today. It'll be our job to escort it all the way Cleveland, then from there an army garrison will take it the rest of the way to Fort Jericho."

"Why were you in Deadwood in the first place?" I asked.

"Army Intelligence thought they had found Robur's new base of operations, an abandoned mining outpost somewhere in the mountains near Deadwood. A few local prospectors had gone missing in an area about ten miles outside of town. I searched for almost a week, but I got nowhere. If Robur was there, he'd cleared out long before I showed up."

A voice with a heavy Irish brogue came through a box on the wall. "Miss Violet, we're catchin' up to the convoy. Seven hundred years and closing."

Mouse grabbed the bullhorn, releasing a U-shaped metal hook like an old telephone. "Get us within five hundred yards and hold speed, Jenkins."

" 'Aye, ma'am."

Mouse hung up the horn. It was some kind of intercom system.

"Care for some breakfast?" she asked.

Now that she mentioned it, I was pretty hungry. "Sure."

She picked up the horn again. "Pierre, our guest is awake and hungry. We'll have breakfast in the palace car."

"Madame, I am not a waiter," came the reply through the box.

"You're on my payroll, so you'll be whatever the hell I say you are," she said. "Breakfast. Five minutes."

A few minutes later, I saw Cecil enter the car, his computer monitor head stuck, rather comically, to a humanoid body minus a neck. He wore a French maître d outfit with his signature white gloves. He laid a silver tray of toast, marmalade, and jam on the coffee table between the sofa and the love seat. He disappeared again into the forward car and returned with another silver tray with a pot of fresh coffee, two china cups and saucers, sugar, honey and cream.

"Will that be all, madame?" he asked, clearly resentful of his station in life.

"For now, sugah," she said.

He looked at me, rolled his eyes and went away with a sneer. We ate quietly, the subject of last night never coming up. I got the distinct impression I'd disappointed her by not being more open to her advances. Don't get me wrong, I like women and sex as much as the next guy, but I've never had women throw themselves at me, nor have I ever been particularly good at wooing the opposite sex. In the end, it didn't really matter what she saw in me or why; this wasn't Mouse, at least not as I knew her. Succumbing to her would have made things complicated, and they were already complicated enough.

"Miss Violet," said the voice of Jenkins through the intercom, "I think we've got incoming. Unidentified craft off the starboard side, thirty degree inclination!"

Mouse and I ran to the windows. Up in the air, easily keeping pace with us and moving parallel with the train, was a flying contraption that looked like something taken from the pages of Leonardo Da Vinci. It had a spinning rotor which produced lift while a pair of bat-like wings and two jet exhausts from its aft end generated thrust and direction control. Mouse grabbed a pair of field binoculars and studied the flying machine.

"It's him," she said, handing me the binocs.

I looked through the glasses at the machine, amazed that something so crude could fly like it did. It looked like an early attempt at a gyrocopter; the body was metallic, but the skeleton wings were made from bamboo and cloth. It swooped in a graceful arc, closing on our train in a graceful arc.

Mouse grabbed the horn. "Jenkins, lay on the steam, sugah! Get us as close as you can to the convoy."

"I'll have ye right un top of 'er directly, ma'am," Jenkins said.

I felt the train accelerate. Mouse tossed me a box of ammo. I loaded my new Webley and pocketed the remaining shells. I followed Mouse into the forward car. We passed a kitchenette, bedroom, wardrobe and finally came out the other side where we climbed into the cab of the tank engine. At the controls was an old binome in a black and white stripped engineer's cap and overalls.

"We're gaining on them Army boys, miss, that we are," he said in his distinctive Irish accent. "We'll be less than a hundred yards in thirty seconds."

"I need the grapple," Mouse said.

"I've already got 'er 'ooked up to the steam pump."

Jenkins handed Mouse a bazooka-looking device that resembled a brass and steel version of the Nintendo Super Scope with a metal spike sticking out of a flared nozzle. A flexible hose plugged into the gun's underside and ran into a steam pump inside the cab.

"What the hell is that thing for?" I asked.

"We need to get on that train," said Mouse. "This is our ticket."

Jenkins handed her a small box with a carabiner and hook bolted to it. Mouse climbed up a ladder and through a trap door in the cab's ceiling. I looked helplessly at Jenkins, the engineer.

" 'Aye, lad, she's a live one," he said. "But stick close to 'er and she'll not steer ye wrong."

"It's not her I'm worried about," I said. "Can you keep this thing steady?"

"My nerves are as solid as this engine's iron guts! Now off with ye, before I be a'throwin' you off me train, boyo."

I climbed up the ladder after Mouse. The air whipped past my face furiously. The adrenaline saturating my blood made me feel invincible, but every labored breath I took reminded me of my injuries. I had to stick with Mouse until we hit the game boundary. For all I knew, she could be nullified if she got killed.

I slowly made my way along the roof of the tank engine toward the front. Mouse was already kneeling in front of the smokestack, bracing herself against the metal beam, her staticky orange hair tossed into greater chaos by the air moving through it like so many invisible fingers. She smiled when she saw me, her dark crimson eyes conveying amusement and something else. Pride? Maybe gratitude. I didn't have time to really decode all her expressions. She turned her attention back to the caboose of the train ahead of us. She braced the grapple against her shoulder, sighted in and pulled the trigger. A great puff of steam followed a loud pop from the tip of the grapple as the spike went hurtling at the caboose, a small metal wire trailing after it. The spike sank deep into the wooden frame of the caboose. Mouse pulled the wire taunt and secured it to the train using a mechanical crank in front of the smokestack. She then opened the metal box Jenkins had given her, exposing the gearwork inside. She closed it around the cable and hooked it to her belt.

She winked at me and mouthed something. I leaned in closer to hear her over the wailing wind between us. She grabbed my collar and laid another epic kiss on me. Before I could even react she pushed herself off the front of the train and started pulling herself down the wire toward the other train. I silently prayed that Jenkins, or whoever he really was in Mainframe, could keep our speed constant, that the wire wouldn't sag or pull apart. Either way meant certain death for Mouse. I breathed a sigh of relief when she made it to the car.

The box must have had a mechanical spring inside because it same zipping along the wire back towards me. I grabbed it and hooked it to my belt the same way Mouse had done. I lowered myself off the front end of the train, wrapping my left leg around the wire to keep me stable while I pulled myself across.

I made it halfway when I looked up and saw the flying craft swing around. It seemed to hover over me like some menacing creature from a nightmare I'd once had as a child. It raced ahead, and I continued to follow it, transfixed. Then I saw it drop something. An explosion shook me on the wire, and I felt my body tense up. It was dropping bombs. I redoubled my efforts to reach the train ahead. Another explosion, this one closer. I could feel the heat from that one!

I looked and saw Mouse trying to shoot at the flying machine with her Remington. She wasn't being very effective. The third bomb jared me off the wire. The little box came to pieces, and I was left dangling over the few feet of space between my body and the blurred railroad track beneath me. I had to bend my legs at the knees to keep from scraping the ground. There was no way I could make it across without the assistance of the mechanical box. The metal wire cut into my fingers as my weight seemed to increase with each painful second.

I looked at Mouse again. She knew I was done for; the helpless look on her face told me as much. Just when I felt as if my grip would fail, I saw a faint flicker of light form around me. The world seemed to fade away as if I'd touched a mirage. The cable vanished, and I fell.

* * *

"WARNING: SYSTEM INSTABILITY. WARNING: SYSTEM INSTABILITY."

The monotone voice of the system greeted me like an old friend. I was back in Mainframe. I'd passed through the very edge of the game wall and reentered an untouched part of the system. I looked behind me and saw the familiar energy barrier that separated the different game realities. Here it was visible, an undulating wall of white energy, crackling with power.

I looked around. The sky was dark, literally. It was like someone had turned off the picturesque blue sky, and all that remained was the ugly backlight of the containment field. Sparks of electricity surged across the sky, making ghostly apparitions of the surrounding cityscape.

"Hey, you!" I was confronted with a CPU trooper named Sergeant Smiley. "Aren't you that viral expert from the Supercomputer?"

"Kevin Sawyer, yea," I said.

"Great User's Ghost, am I glad to see you," he said.

"Give me a SitRep," I said. "I need to know the extent of the damage."

"We've lost contact with ninety-eight percent of the system," he said. "The last Game Cube that dropped went critical, some kind of mass data transfer. Then these energy fields popped up around every sector. We don't know what they are, but-"

"They're games," I said. "There was a virus trapped in the Game Cube. He tried to escape using the code sampling device, but it didn't work. Instead, I think it separated Mainframe into different game environments that the sampler had in its memory."

"And the people inside?" he asked.

"They all think they're part of the game," I said. "I've already seen Bob and Dot. They're fine, but they're in no position to help. The same goes for Mouse."

"Then we're all done for!" he cried loudly in desperation.

"Now is no time to panic," I said. "Where's the Principal Office?"

He pointed toward a structure that I hadn't yet noticed. It seemed to be in the center of the energy fields, almost as if it were pulling them toward it like the eye of a hurricane.

"That's the Principal Office?" I asked.

"What's replaced it," Smiley said dismally.

This thing did not belong in Mainframe. It looked like a demented artist's twisted, demonic version of the Disneyland castle. It looked infected with evil, if that were possible. Green mist seemed to rise from every crevice on its surface. The spires and ramparts were jagged and edged in a way totally inconsistent with Euclidean geometry. It was a festering wound, ugly and misshapen, yet it had an elegance to it that spoke of a deeply-rooted narcissism and malevolence. It rose into the sky like the tip of a spear piercing the very heart of the system.

"Has anybody tried to get inside?" I asked.

"We sent a few troops through the intrasystem portals, but...none ever came back."

"Portals? What portals?"

Smiley handed me a vidpad. It had a diagram of the system on it. The red areas seemed to indicate the energy fields. The smaller blue areas were places where the uneven boundaries of those fields had allowed little oasises of the real Mainframe to remain intact in between. Then there were blinking yellow dots scattered all over the diagram.

"It must have something to do with how Game Cubes can stabilize tears into portals," said Smiley. "There's a few around here that lead into the red zones, but nobody's tried to use them since our personnel disappeared inside the Principal Office."

"Is there a way to identify individual PID signatures with this?" I asked.

"Which ones?" asked Smiley.

"The senior staff," I said. "Bob, Dot, Matrix, AndrAIa, all of them."

Smiley took the pad and punched in a few commands. He handed it back to me, and I saw seven PID icons had appeared. I tapped on one with my finger and a picture of Matrix appeared. I touched another and I got a picture of Mouse. I touched a third icon and I got a picture of Welman Matrix in his sprite form, glasses, mustache and all.

"Hold on," I said. "Why is Welman Matrix on here?"

"Beats me," Smiley said. "The sensors must be acting eight-bit. The whole system's been turned on its head."

I tapped one of the yellow dots, and a yellow line appeared connecting it to another yellow dot on the other side of Mainframe. I could trace where the portals led within the system using the vidpad.

"I need to borrow this," I said.

"What for?" asked Smiley.

"I'm going back inside the game grid," I said. "Hopefully, I'll be able to use this to track everybody down and bring them out safely through the portals."

"Why weren't you affected in the first place?"

"I don't know," I lied. "Maybe it was because I was inside the game when it happened. Look, I don't have time to explain everything now. I've got to get back and help Mouse. Just keep the survivors outside those energy fields, and stay out of the Principal Office until I bring help back."

Smiley saluted, and I walked back to the energy barrier. I wasn't sure where I'd end up. Spatial orientation was obviously different within the fields. I closed my eyes, clasped the vidpad tight in my hand, and I stepped back through.

* * *

I knew immediately I was not back where I'd left off. I was inside a mineshaft that was lit by electric lights. The tunnel curved around to the right and ran at a steep angle down into the Earth. The vidpad had become a paper map. I folded it up and put it in my pocket. I was still dressed as I had been in the game before, Webley included. I spun the chamber, making sure I was still fully loaded. I set off down the mineshaft, keeping my gun drawn and pointed forward.

I finally came to a large metal bulkhead with three combination wheels sticking out of it in a sideways V. I tapped my gun on the frame. It was more solid than a bank vault. I studied the three combination wheels and thought for a moment. A triple combination lock was impossible to crack. All three wheels had to be spun in a certain sequence. I didn't know that sequence, nor did I know the combinations for each wheel. That's when I remembered something interesting: combination locks could be reset and rekeyed to a new combination using a master code.

I had to reach back in my memory to when I was still just a kid. I had been reading about Richard Feynman, and how he'd taught himself to pick locks for fun while he was working on the Manhattan Project at Los Alamos. Resetting a combination usually caused the lock to release until a new combination was spun in. It was a necessary trick locksmiths incorporated into their designs because high-end clients like banks and the government needed to change codes almost daily. Spinning each dial in the same master code, regardless of sequence, would effectively be the same as unlocking the door.

"What could it be?" I asked myself aloud.

Since this was a game inspired by a Jules Verne character, I tried Verne's birthdate backwards and forwards and got nothing. I was getting frustrated. That's when I remembered Feynman's number one rule: the simplest explanation is usually the right one. I was overthinking this. What was the easiest, most convenient means of resetting a combination? I spun the dials three times counterclockwise, stopping on 0 each time. Nothing happened. Feeling defeated again I kicked the door, stubbing my toe. That's when I tried it again, repeating the process, only clockwise this time.

I heard a metallic _clang_ inside the door. It slid down into the floor with a hiss of hydraulic pressure. On the other side was the same tunnel continuing its course down into the planet, but the walls were smooth metal and a metal car sat waiting for me on a set of tracks.

I stepped up to the conveyor and examined it. It was a cage of brass and wood. The driver was meant to stand while operating the controls, a simple arrangement of lever, pedals and switches. I climbed on and found the power switch. Apparently, it was electrical. An instrument panel lit up in front of me. I played with the levers and got the thing moving, first in spasmodic jerks then in a slow descent. After a few minutes of spiraling into the planet's crust I increased the cage's speed to maximum.

It took something like eight minutes to reach the bottom of the shaft. I entered a vast underground cave that had been hollowed out like a groundhog's lair. Large metal scaffolding crisscrossed the cavern and lit the chamber with artificial incandescent bulbs. At the bottom of the cavern I saw a flat floor of grey concrete. The track I was on continued to carry me downwards towards the ground level.

I pulled out the map and inspected it. Even though it was now a paper map, the vidpad seemed to hold all its previous touchscreen functions. I tapped a yellow dot which was close to Mouse's PID icon. The yellow line crossed the system and intersected another dot in a blue zone in the same sector occupied by Welman, Enzo and Ray. That was our escape route. I had to find Mouse and then find the portal. Hopefully getting Mouse back to the real world would restore her to normal.

When the cage reached the bottom of the cave, I put the map away and got out. My first footfalls on the surface were metallic, not stone. I saw several lines of rivets crossing through the center of the metal floor and the uneven level of metal plates. I was standing on a giant iris door! No sooner had I realized this when I was instantly surrounded by an armed team of men who just materialized out of the darkness around me like wraiths. They were dressed like common mining folk, but their customized automatic rifles were as uncommon as a human User in Mainframe.

They took my gun and led me down several flights of metal stairs. They prodded me through a set of double doors and I found myself in an elevator. Two took up positions on either side of me. The elevator took me even further down. When the doors opened I was pushed into a very plush living room. It was cut right out of the rock; the floor was flat, probably poured concrete, and covered with expensive Persian rugs. A tall marble fireplace stood at the head of the room, a giant portrait of some noble lord hanging above it. Statues and fine Victorian furniture filled the space, slightly out of place in the room they were meant to decorate. A giant crystal chandelier hung from above, lighting the place brilliantly.

I heard a chair fall over and I spun around. To my left was a great dining table. Apparently Mouse had been sitting in one of the dinner chairs when I walked in.

"Sawyer!" she gasped. She ran up to me and threw her arms around me. "I could have sworn you were dead!" I held her for a few moments then she pulled back. "How did you survive?"

"I'm tougher than you gave me credit for," I said. "But maybe I should save explanations for later. Where are we?"

"We must be in Robur's lair," Mouse said.

"How did you get here?" I asked.

"After you fell, Robur's flying machine landed on top of the train. They used acid to burn through the cab's roof and stole Tesla's invention. I tried to stop them, but they hit me with some kind of tranquilizer dart and brought me here. I just woke up about five minutes ago. How did you find find it?"

"I found an old abandoned mineshaft not far from where I fell. It was lit with electric lights, so I followed it until I found a secret entrance, and it led me down here. It's some kind of abandoned mining system that breaks into a large underground cave. It looks like they've been using it for a while."

"You're very astute."

A man had entered the room unnoticed by either of us. He stood perfectly erect, wearing a light grey Nehru jacket with a stiff, high collar and matching pants. He had a lion's mane of iron gray hair and a handsome but menacing face. He looked almost like Beethoven; he had a wide forehead and sunken eyes with thick, bushy eyebrows. His lips were turned down in a perpetual frown. His stare was intense and focused, like a surgical instrument. I had the feeling this character was different than any I'd ever seen before.

"The woman I am familiar with," he said. "You, I am not." He approached me slowly, his gaze never wavering. Even thought he spoke perfect English, his powerful voice carried an accent I couldn't place. "I am Robur."

"My name is Kevin Sawyer. I'm familiar with you."

"My reputation is of no consequence," he said. "I want to know how you gained access to my personal rail entrance."

"Found a mineshaft and followed it to the door. I reset the tumblers like I was going to key in a new combination code, and the door unlocked automatically."

"How did you know the master code?"

"It was mostly trial and error," I said, "but the simplest deduction turned out to be the right one. Three turns clockwise to zero reset the tumblers and unlocked the door. It took me about forty-five minutes to figure it out."

There was no change in Robur's face or body language. He continued to stare at me with that cold, analytical gaze. "You are not a government agent," he said simply. "Those buffoons suffer from an acute lack of imagination; they couldn't have deduced the master code so easily. What is your profession, sir?"

"Physicist," I said.

"Hmm. A man of science as well as one of action." He reached into his pocket and drew out my Webley. "It is a shame a man of intelligence aligned himself with the small minds of the American government."

"I was drafted," I said.

He seemed to consider this. He decocked the gun and put it back in his pocket. "I am not a violent man by nature, but my impatience with the shortsightedness of my fellow man has made me quick to anger. However, I am fair. You and the lady will join me."

He led us back to the elevator. We rode upwards, Robur silent and grave, almost like a statue. We stepped out onto a platform. Above us was the giant iris door, immediately below us was a gigantic metal aircraft. It was silvery and reflective, its surface almost a perfect mirror. Its cigar-shaped body resembled the space shuttle, but the nose narrowed to the point of being a needle. It had a high curved tail and long stabilizer wings in the back. I could see no propellers or engines of any kind. Hanging over the vehicle was a giant black flag with a golden sun in the center. It looked like something from the old Buck Rogers serials from the 50's.

"This isn't The Albatross," I said, referring to one of Robur's flying machines from Verne's novel. "And it doesn't resemble The Terror, either."

"It is neither," he said. "The Constellation is my greatest achievement. It is a vehicle which will carry me and a crew of twenty beyond our planet's atmosphere."

"It's a suborbital spacecraft?" I asked.

"It is designed to achieve distances far greater than just low orbit," said Robur. "The Constellation will carry me to the moon, then to the other planets within the solar system and finally out into the vast stellar wilderness beyond."

"I don't see any engines," I said.

"Your Mr. Tesla provided the ship's means of propulsion," said Robur. "Nth metal has finally given me the power to achieve my greatest dream, to conquer the stars."

"Nth metal?"

Robur looked to Mouse then back to me. "I see your companion has withheld certain details from you, although I doubt her masters fully entrusted her with the secret."

He set off again, and we obediently followed.

In another room, somewhere below the The Constellation's hangar, Robur showed us the device Tesla had built for the War Department. It was a metal case one-half feet in height and four feet in length. Robur opened the lid. Inside was a complex arrangement of electrical wiring, diodes, gears and springs. In the center was a piece of machined metal held in a pair mechanical claws.

Robur flipped a switch on the device's case, and it lifted off the table, emitting a barely-audible hum.

"This is Tesla's invention, a device capable of reversing the action of gravity," said Robur.

"How does it work?" I asked.

"The Nth metal core, when charged with an electrical current, effectively mutes gravity's hold upon anything within a localized vicinity. Once enough current is applied, the Nth metal can switch gravity from an attractive force to a repellant one."

"I've never seen anything like this," I said. "Where did the Nth metal come from?"

"Outer space. My own inquiries lead me to believe Nth matter is formed within certain types of stars far heavier and older than our relatively young sun. Sometimes these stars explode, sending their remains across the void where they drift forever, or, in our case, they come crashing to Earth in the form of meteorites."

"What your saying is impossible," Mouse said.

"It's not impossible," I said, lapsing into a nerd rant. "What he's describing is a supernova. It's what happens when a red giant explodes and becomes a white dwarf. At that temperature and pressure, all kinds of exotic matter can form."

"You continue to surprise me, sir," said Robur. "That is extremely rare with me."

"You intend to use the Nth metal device to power your spaceship," I said. "Not to attack the United States?"

"I have no interest in this quaint country besides its vast resources," Robur said. "The fact that I am wanted by the authorities is because I owe no allegiance to any nation or power other than my own conscience and because I do not share my knowledge of powered flight with the rest of the world. For this, I am branded an outlaw and a madman."

Robur pulled out my Webley again, holding it in the palm of his hand. He held it out to me.

"I give you two options," he said, "you may either leave this world with me or remain my prisoners until I depart, at which time you will be released."

"Do you give me your word that you will not attack? That you will only leave and never return?"

"I have grown weary of this world, sir," Robur said. "It no longer holds any interest for me. Your choice?"

I took my gun. We were put back in the great living room where we first met Robur.

When we were alone, Mouse finally said: "He's every bit as nutty as I was told."

"It's sad really," I replied. "He's so out of place here that he has to find another planet to live."

"He's still in possession of government property," Mouse said.

"I don't think that matters now," I said. "You heard him, Robur's on a one way trip out of the solar system. You won't have to worry about him anymore."

"You put an awful lot of trust in him. How do you know he'll keep his word and not attack?"

"The same reason he gave me my gun back." I checked the chamber; it was still loaded. "Sometimes I feel that same way. Now, any bright ideas for getting us out of here?"

"Where would we go?" asked Mouse.

I pulled out the map and checked our location. I zoomed in on the portal nearest to us. "There's a way out of this place," I said. "If we can make it there, we'll be home free."

"Is that a map of Robur's compound?"

"Uh, yea...I picked it up just before I was captured. See this yellow dot here? That's where we need to go."

"It doesn't look very far," Mouse said. "We'll need to open the elevator doors."

I looked around for something to pry the doors open with. I used a sword from a medial suit of armor next to the fireplace. I used the blade to separate the doors then Mouse and I pulled them open. The elevator was no longer working for us; Robur had probably turned it off. Only the empty shaft was left before us.

"This might be a problem," I said.

"Don't sweat it," Mouse said. "Watch this."

She undid her belt, opening the buckle to draw out a fine wire wound inside. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a metal case which sprung open into a grapple hook. Using a fountain pen, cigarette case and lady's powder compact she assembled a small gun and attached the grapple to the barrel. She ran a small hose from the butt of the pistol into her boot heel, which popped open into an air pump. She pumped her heel on the floor for a few seconds, building pressure. When she was ready, she fired the grapple up into the shaft. It caught on the metalwork. She gave the line a few tugs to make sure it was secure.

She held on to the end of the cable that was her leather belt and told me to wait until she brought up the elevator. She swung out into the shaft and slowly disappeared as the cable was let out of her belt.

The elevator arrived a few moments later. Mouse had found it at the bottom of the shaft and broken in through the trap door in its ceiling. We rode it up two levels then passed through several corridors undetected, avoiding anybody we saw. Finally, we found a room with a padlock on it. I checked the map; the portal was on the other side.

Mouse took out one of the needles holding up her hair and squeezed some acid onto the lock from the hypodermic tip. It ate through the metal and we went inside. The room was a storage closet of some kind; the portal was hidden behind some metal shelves, a shimmering foam bubble hanging in space. I could see Mainframe on the other side.

"Sawyer, what is that?" Mouse asked.

"It's our exit. It'll take us away from here to someplace safe."

"I don't like the looks of it."

An alarm went off throughout the compound. They'd discovered our escape.

"We need to go now!" I said.

Mouse made up her mind and nodded. I took her hand and we jumped through the portal together.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4: City of Heroes**

It was getting late. Kevin was obviously tired, but he kept himself awake. Vivian tried to make him go to bed, but he kept saying he wasn't tired.

"It's too bad I can't write all this down," he said. "I could be bigger than Crichton."

"Is that your great fallback plan?" asked Vivian. "Turn your memoirs into science fiction novels?"

"Why not? It sounds too sensational to be real, doesn't it? Sometimes I wonder if it all isn't just some dream. Then I get punched in the face by a a supervirus, and I suddenly remember my Shakespeare. 'There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'"

"You'd know that better than anyone," Vivian said. "You and Mouse escaped through the portal, then. What happened next?"

Kevin sat up and stretched. "I almost killed Mouse."

* * *

As soon as we exited the portal, Mouse collapsed. Her body shimmered and flickered like a flame in a strong wind. She fell against me, and I lowered her to the ground. She was in a state of shock, or in sprite lingo, fragmented. This usually happened when a sprite or other cyber-being was exposed to an intense magnetic or electrical force. It was equivalent to demagnetizing a hard drive.

It was like watching her western persona fighting against her real self, and the fight was ending in a draw. One moment she'd be wearing her casual tank top and the next she would revert back into her tweed riding outfit.

I looked around for help. I thought we were in Floating Point Park, but the blue zone was so small, I couldn't really be sure. We were surrounded on all sides by the energy fields, and again, the dark tower loomed over us like the omnipotent burning eye of Sauron.

I couldn't see anyone; Mouse and I were totally on our own. I pulled out the vidpad, which had reverted back to its original form, and checked the nearest game environment. Directly across from us was a red zone that I'd previously identified. Welman, Enzo and Ray were trapped inside. I immediately recognized something was different about this environment. Welman was showing up as an active PID signature when he shouldn't have. Being a null, his personal identification codes were scrabbled beyond the city's sensors capacity to recognize as a full sprite.

I couldn't just leave Mouse out there to die. The only way to save her life would be to take her into another game environment. I scooped her up and walked through the field.

We were in a city. I could immediately tell this place wasn't modeled on any place in the real world. The buildings and skyscrapers that rose up around us were futuristic and sleek and higher than any structure I had ever seen. It was like someone had combined Art Deco with Futurism architecture in a seamless merging of glass, steel and chrome, creating the illusion that everything was cut from solid crystal and painted in gold and silver.

The city was busy with human activity. Cars were weaving through traffic, pedestrians were moving to and fro along the sidewalks. Up above I saw zeppelins move slowly across the sky, powered by jet engines on their undersides. There was a cable car system running along the tops of the buildings as well; they looked like cigar tubes with windows, skimming along invisible chords of spider silk.

Mouse seemed stable, now. Her body stopped fading in and out, and now she was wearing a turquoise catsuit and pumps. Her katanas had also reappeared, one still in her boot and the other in a sheath on her back. I saw a bench nearby and laid her down. My own clothing had changed again as well. I was wearing a brown corduroy sport coat over a charcoal gray V-neck, dark jeans and square toe Italian boots. It was rather casual compared to Mouse's attire.

I turned my attention to Mouse. She was still unconscious, but her breathing was regular, and her hair was starting to sparkle again, which I took as a good sign. Then suddenly, the ground started to shake beneath my feet.

Everybody stopped for a moment, looks of fright and confusion plastered across their faces. That's when the asphalt cracked open like an egg, steam and dust spewing out of the fracture like a pressure cooker. The crack widened into a long crevasse that ran the length of the street. The buildings around us rattled and groaned as their metal skeletons were twisted and warped at their very foundations.

After a few minutes, the quakes stopped and the ground settled. A few curious people stepped forward and looked into the abyss. In true horror movie form, a giant reptilian claw reached up out of the darkness and grasped the edge of the fissure. Everybody shrank back.

A swarm of green, scaly monsters ascended out of the obsidian depths. They were about eight or nine feet tall. Their bodies were humanoid, but their heads were long and had pointed skulls like a pterodactyl. Their mouths were split halfway up their face and had rows of serrated teeth. Their skin was made up of rough green scales like an iguana. Each of their arms ended in a large, three fingered claw with an opposable digit. They had legs like a marsupial which also ended in claws like those on an ostrich. They all had long, sinuous tails that wiggled around like a serpent.

They were pouring out of the fissure like ants out of an ant hill. People shrieked and ran away in terror as the creatures started to attack. One of the creatures locked his two large slitted eyes on me and Mouse and stalked toward us. I remembered the Webley I was carrying and reached for it. Instead of pulling a revolver, I came out with some sort of ray gun shaped like a Menacer lightgun for the old Genesis console.

The reptile stopped midstep, eyeing me curiously.

"You've gotta be kidding," I said, looking at my weapon is disbelief.

He let out a vicious squawk and leapt toward me. I pulled the trigger, and a beam of white light hit him in the chest, knocking him on his back. Two more came at us, their claws ready to slash us open. I took them both down with a single blast each. I was getting some attention now. Almost all the lizard creatures were converging on me. I kept the trigger pressed and swept the beam in an arc against the encroaching beasts. It was like aiming a flashlight and having the ray mow the lizards down as it passed across them.

The beam vanished abruptly. A blinking indicator on the gun warned me that the battery was depleted. I had some seriously pissed off lizard creatures eyeing me hungrily, and I started to back away as they continued to close in on me in a semicircle.

"What in Hell fire!"

Mouse was awake. On her feet and wielding double katanas, she looked every bit the warrior woman even in the catsuit.

"Sawyer, where are we?" she demanded. "And what are these things?"

Before I could answer, one of the creatures lunged at me, taking a swipe at me with his claws. I jumped out of the way, narrowly missing the sharp razors, but not quick enough to avoid getting my jacket slashed. I used the last bit of power in my gun to zap the sucker.

"Just slice the damn things!" I yelled.

They were approaching from all sides; we were hopelessly outnumbered. I prepared myself for hand-to-hand.

Then Mouse said: "Look, _up in the sky!_ " She pointed with her katana.

I looked and saw something flying toward us. It started out as just a little speck then it grew into the form of a human being, flying through the air with his arms outstretched like Superman. It swooped down and drove through the crowd of lizards like a bowling ball knocking down pins. What happened next was a blur, literally. The flying man was taking on all the lizards simultaneously, rushing between them so fast my vision couldn't keep up with him. He'd karate kick one here and punch one there then deliver a roundhouse combo to three or four at different locations at once!

In no time, it seemed like all the invading creatures had been subdued, but more were still coming out of the fissure.

A beam of crimson energy suddenly filled the crack. Mouse and I looked above us; the source of the beam was a silver-skinned man on a surfboard. Ray! He was using his game abilities to fix the crack. The other character slowed down long enough for me to get a good look at him. It was Enzo. He was wearing a tight-fitting superhero costume: a red shirt and pants and black briefs in between with black boots and a yellow belt. Emblazoned on his chest was a single gold lightning bolt symbol.

After Ray sealed the crack, he and Enzo finished with the remaining lizard men. It was then that I noticed the creatures' bodies gradually disappeared into thin air after they were defeated. It must have been a feature of this particular game's mechanics. Nobody seemed to notice except me.

"Hey, you!" Enzo shouted at me.

"Who? Me?"

"Yea, the dope with the ray gun." He sounded annoyed.

"Who are you calling a dope?" I asked, slightly offended.

"You should know better than to open fire in a populated area with a weapon like that," he said.

"I was defending myself," I said.

"The dope ain't much," said Ray, gliding up beside Mouse, "but the lady is certainly well-equipped." His pupil-less red eyes roamed up and down her body admiringly. I don't think he was just talking about her katanas. He grabbed her hand and kissed it. "Martin Mercury, at your service, m'lady."

Mouse let her hand linger for a second then withdrew it. "Uhh...Sawyer. I want an explanation."

"You'll have to forgive Martin, miss," Enzo said. "He's fast on the come-ons but slow on the uptake."

"I take offense to that," Ray said. "I'm a gentleman in every way."

"In every way except the ways that count," Enzo fired back. "Now, about that ray gun."

"Oh, lighten up, matchstick," Ray said. "He probably bought us a lot of time until we got here. He should get a medal."

"And people don't just walk around uptown with ray guns in their pockets," said Enzo. "Sir, who are you exactly?"

"How about you tell me who you are first," I said, "and why I shouldn't have a ray gun, considering the fact my friend and I were just attacked by giant lizards."

"I'm Rex Kelvin," he said, "leader of the Vanguard."

"Which means what to me?"

"C'mon," Ray said, "we're superheroes, mate. You gotta know who we are."

"Sorry," I said. "I don't read the funny pages."

"Cheeky much?" Ray asked.

"Enough!" Mouse spat. "I don't care who any of you are! If somebody doesn't answer me in the next _five seconds_ I'm gonna tear you all a new one!"

"That's...not going to be easy," I said.

"You'd better make it easy," she said, reaching for her katana.

"Mouse, wait!"

"And stop calling me that," she said. "I don't like pet names."

"It's not a pet name, it's your name!" I said. "Look, we crossed over into another universe. Satisfied?"

She unsheathed the sword.

"I don't think that's what she wanted to hear," Enzo said.

"It's the truth," I said quickly. "That's how I survived falling from the train, that's how I brought us here. Look around. Does this city look like any place you've ever seen?" I saw her move her eyes around nervously. "It's because we're not in your world anymore."

"That thing," she said, "before I blacked out. What was it?"

"It was a portal. It's how I got us here."

"Take me back!"

"I can't. You might die."

"Why you low-down, dirty sonofa-"

The ground started trembling again.

"More of those things!" I said.

"No, this is different," Enzo said. He was looking at a holographic image being projected by a computer on his armband. "This is a another geoseismic space-time influx anomaly."

"English, professor!" said Ray.

"It's being triggered by the energy fields around the city," said Enzo.

The earthquake slowly subsided.

"See?" asked Ray. "Wasn't that easier?"

Enzo's wrist computer chirped and a text message appeared. "My dad needs us back at The Citadel," he said. "You two, come with us."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because you obviously don't belong here, and I'm not letting you out of my sight until I know where you came from."

A shadow fell over the spot where we were standing. I looked up and saw a flying saucer hovering above us. It must have been as wide as a football field. Two green-glowing thrusters on its underside kept it aloft, but they weren't jet engines. A door on the underside opened up and a column of light surrounded us. Mouse and I were pulled upwards into the ship, Enzo and Ray following behind us.

Once inside, the door below us closed and we found ourselves standing on the flight deck. Ahead of us was a wide, semicircular window which gave us a panoramic view of the city. In the middle and toward the front of the deck was a seat with pilot controls and a bank of indicators and screens. Enzo sat down and we began to move.

"What is this thing?" I asked.

"Hypersaucer," said Enzo. "I don't really use it anymore since I learned how to fly, but I like to take her for a spin every once in a while."

"Every once in a while meaning when his dad let's him have the keys," said Ray.

"Bite me, Martin," said Enzo.

The saucer banked right, and even though I couldn't feel it, I knew we were accelerating because the buildings ahead of us continued to disappear under the window.

"How fast are we moving?" I asked.

"About a hundred and fifty mph. She can go a lot faster, though. I've had her up to Mach 9 myself, and in space she can get up to superluminal speeds with the hyper drive."

"I can't feel the acceleration," I said.

"G-diffusers and anti-friction hull plating," said Enzo. "State-of-the-art mass reduction system. She can stop on a dime and not even shudder."

I saw a tall tower loom ahead of us. It was a gorgeous building, the highest I'd ever seen. It looked like dozens of sheets of metal pressed together, each one taller and narrower than the last until it ended in a needle piercing the sky. A pair of metal doors on the side opened and we glided in. We landed inside a launch bay. Enzo led us to the hatch where we descended a flight of stairs. At the bottom was a green-skinned sprite whose face I was only cursorily familiar with.

After all, I was used to seeing Welman inside an exosuit.

"Kevin!" he said, immediately recognizing me. "Kevin, it is you, isn't it?"

"It's me," I said, astonished. "Welman, you're whole! I'm mean...look at you!"

"Dad," asked Enzo, "do you know this guy?"

"I do, son," he said. "Kevin, I'm so glad to see you. I'm glad that you're you. User, this has been such a stressful cycle." He noticed Mouse. "Does she...?"

"No," I said. "Welman, please tell me you know something."

Welman took me to a large laboratory where we could talk in private. It looked like Lex Luthor's workshop. There were robots and gadgets and gizmos of numerous description and machines I had never seen before except in comic books.

Welman had been restored to his sprite form. He was wearing a white lab coat, slacks, a flannel button-down and a sweater vest. His round glasses were perched on the tip of his nose. He looked like a distinguished professor, which is what he had been before the Twin City exploded.

"I've been able to use some of the technology available to me here to learn a few things," Welman said. "Here, in this game reality, I'm the father of a famous superhero."

"Enzo's character," I said.

"Yes. One microsecond, we were on the jet ball court, the next, I was in this laboratory. Imagine my real surprise when I looked in the mirror."

"Why do you think that happened?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said. "Believe me, I'd like to know myself, but when it became apparent that some terrible fate had befallen Mainframe, I devoted all my energy to finding out what happened. Sadly, I haven't learned much."

"It was a virus," I said. "It called itself Sphinx. It was in the game cube. It attacked me and did something to the sampler device."

"What did it want?"

"It was trying to escape," I said. "I think it tried to download itself into the sampler."

Welman snapped his fingers. "That's it. It has to be. The only way he could have fit himself inside the sampler would be if it had one-hundred percent free memory, otherwise he couldn't fit. It's possible that the virus ruptured the game wall when he purged the memory core, and it caused a cascade effect across the entire system."

"What does that mean exactly?" I asked.

"Game code would have overwritten Mainframe's primary reality simulator and created this patchwork of game realities we're seeing right now."

"I'll take your word for it," I said. "I'm not an expert in this area. I've made it this far by the skin of my teeth alone."

"Have you seen anyone else?" Welman asked.

"I saw Bob and your daughter," I said. "They're okay, considering. They think their world is a noir version of Los Angeles, a city in the physical universe. And then there's Mouse. She thinks she's a Secret Service agent in the Old West. That's something else. Why does everybody except you and me remember the real world?"

"I'm not sure. Possibly because you're a User and therefore you don't have a base code that allows you to reboot. I was a null, so the same theory also applies to me. If the game coding has really overwritten the reality simulator, then it would mean each sector is like its own self-contained universe, and everyone inside would conform to that environment."

"When I first crossed the barrier, Bob and Dot were with me. Our clothing changed, our vehicle changed, but they were the same characters they had been before, and they were aware of the difference in venue. Why didn't their personalities change to conform to the new reality like everything else?"

"Oh, no," Welman muttered. "It must be worse than I thought. The games' base code hasn't just corrupted the reality simulator, its imbedded itself in the system core, almost like a viral infection."

"Welman, there's something else," I said. "The energy fields aren't even. Some isolated areas of Mainframe exist in between."

I showed him the vidpad, which had been turned into a mobile GPS unit.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"From a CPU troop who managed to get inside a blue zone. That's not what I'm trying to tell you. The game environments stabilize portals just like normal game cubes do. I used a portal to get me and Mouse out of her reality and back into the real system, but she almost died after stepping through the portal. Welman, I don't think any of them can survive outside the game grid."

"So taking them into the real Mainframe would most likely delete them," Welman said.

"Welman, please tell me you have a plan," I said.

"I have an idea," Welman said. "It might be the only way we can save Mainframe without sacrificing our loved ones."

"What do you mean?"

"The only way to fix this is to trigger Mainframe's system restore function," he said.

"Okay, how do we do that?" I asked.

"The only way is to get into the Principal Office," he said. "The system restore can only be activated adjacent to the reality simulator, which is above the system core."

"I think I saw that once," I said, remembering a tour of the Principal Office Phong had given me. "It's the big green glowing thing underneath the core control chamber."

"That's it."

"Welman, that thing's a bug zapper. How am I supposed to get close enough to it to do anything?"

"You don't have to," he said. "You just need to get the command released, and drop it into the reality simulator."

"How do I release the command?" I asked.

"The command-dot-com has to authorize it," he said.

"Dot isn't the command-dot-com anymore. She thinks she's a classy dame named Gail Wynand."

"That doesn't matter. The security system is biometric; all you need is for her to place her hand on the right console and the rest is automatic."

"That's it?" I said.

"That's it. Mainframe should revert to its last backup point, which was last cycle," he said. "And there's something else, too. Follow me."

Welman led me toward the back of the lab where I saw an unfinished machine. It looked like some kind of teleporter. The circular base was hooked up to a control pedestal which lit up when Welman began operating the dials and switches.

"It's some kind of viewing device," he said, "but I think it can also be used as a teleportation device. So far, I haven't been able to make it teleport anything, but I can see things in other parts of the system, including the Principal Office. Give me just one moment."

A glittering field of white light appeared over the base of the viewing machine. It formed into a two-dimensional circle. Within the circle, I saw an image of the twisted castle, the green fog shrouding it like a gangrenous infection.

The image changed, and we were inside the building, as if we were actually walking through its hallways. It was dark and dank, brick and mortar, the kind of thing you would expect to see in a medieval dungeon only it was everywhere. There were people, too, members of the staff who had been inside when the change happened. They all looked like walking corpses, drained of color and life, walking aimlessly through the corridors as if they had nowhere to go and no purpose to fulfill.

"What happened?" I asked.

"He happened," Welman said.

A new image appeared. It was a gigantic throne, and sitting on it was a true Lovecraftian nightmare.

"Sphinx," I muttered.

He had changed. He no longer had the body of a scorpion or the head of a praying mantis, but a slimy, slithering body composed of countless tentacles and a head that spread open like a starfish. The only thing that hadn't changed was the way the colors of its skin moved as it moved, as if the colors were stationary and he were moving against a projection.

"I don't understand," I said. "Why did he change? He didn't look like that before."

"The Principal Office is at the center of the distortion," said Welman. "It's twisting him, making him more powerful. It's like he's feeding off the game energy itself."

"Where is he in the Principal Office?" I asked.

Welman sighed and removed his glasses. "The core control chamber."

I looked back at the image and felt a familiar knot form in the pit of my stomach.

"I'm going to need a bigger ray gun," I said.

The lights in the laboratory flickered as another quake rocked the earth beneath us.

"What's causing these quakes?" I asked.

"The system wasn't formatted to support all these different game realities," Welman said. "I estimate we have less than three seconds until Mainframe crashes."

I slapped my forehead and let my hand run down my entire face. "Things just can't be easy."

It was later when I found Mouse. She was standing by herself, gazing out the window, her arms folded. The sun was setting, the last dim rays of twilight seeping into the room. Welman had put us up in rooms on the penthouse floor. The spacious living room had a spectacular view of the city. Even I had to admire it. Mouse saw my reflection and turned.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm a few centuries ahead of where I was a few hours ago," she said. "I'm peachy. How's your week?"

She turned back to the cityscape.

"I'm sorry this happened," I said, coming up to her. "But this isn't my fault. Believe it or not I'm kind of a victim of circumstance, just like you."

She stayed silent, her eyes locked on the setting sun.

"I saw you and that Mercury guy were getting along earlier," I said.

I saw a glimpse of a smile. "What's the matter, tiger? Jealous?"

"No," I said quickly, perhaps too quickly. "It was just an observation."

I saw her drop her arms and she sighed. "There's more to this, ain't there?"

I nodded. "I've told you the bare minimum. Anything more would just confuse you."

"Because I'm some backwards belle from the swamps, is that it?"

"You're not backwards," I said. "I've seen you hack around firewalls, pilot flying ships and kick ass better than Lucy Lawless. I'm just saying it would confuse you because, hell, I'm right in the middle of it and even I'm lost."

"I have no idea what you just said, but it sounded like a compliment," she said. "Who are you, Sawyer? I mean, really."

I shrugged. "I'm just a guy," I said. "God's honest truth, I'm nobody special. It just so happens that my circumstances are extraordinary. I'm living an incredible adventure beyond anything I could have dreamed. Sometimes, like now, I feel so overwhelmed I wish I'd never even built the machine that brought me here. Then I think about all the fun I've had and all the people I've met, like you and Bob and Enzo, and I realize I'm the luckiest person in the-"

She kissed me, right out of the blue. I was almost used to her just jumping me like this. There was something urgent in her kiss, in the way she pressed her body into mine. My body must have disconnected from my brain because my lips and hands started doing their own thing. I moved my hands up her sides, pressing my thumbs along her ribs until I felt the undersides of her breasts. Mouse's hands were in my hair, now, kneading my scalp. I hadn't been with a woman like this in a while, and I was starting to like the idea when I remembered why we had to stop.

Reluctantly, I pulled away.

"What's wrong?" she asked, clearly disappointed.

"M...Violet..." But it was too late. That first syllable had already slipped out.

"It's her, isn't it? This other woman I'm supposed to be. You see her, don't you?"

"She's with someone else," I said quietly. "I don't even think she looks at me the way you do."

"He's not here," she said. "And neither is she." She ran her hand across my face. "Can't you just be with me and leave her out of it?"

My heart was beating fast. My mind was saying one thing, every other part was saying something totally different. I knew I didn't have the strength to resist anymore. I thought of all the horrible things I'd seen inside the Principal Office, and I knew what I'd have to face there eventually. I had something good here, something great, even though it was only temporary. We would both have to say goodbye when this was over. I think Violet knew, and that's why she was offering me this.

This time I kissed her, letting all my stress and uncertainty run out of me like water through a faucet.

I don't know how long it lasted, and I didn't really care. All I remember is the elation, the sheer ecstasy and pleasure of it all. God, to think I'd almost forgotten what it was like to make love to a woman. Well, after four years of abstinence you can't blame a guy for feeling a little piqued, I guess. Then again, some things are like riding a bike; once you learn you never really forget. Lucky for me that was the case.

I laid stretched out on the bed, Violet on top of me, tracing invisible figures on my skin with her finger. The bed sheets were an impossible tangle around us. I couldn't see her face very well. Her sparkling orange hair cast a mysterious glow over the room, and I thought I saw her lips curled in a satisfied smile. It may have been my imagination. We just laid there together for the longest time, basking in the afterglow.

She finally broke the silence. "Mmmm…that was fun." She laughed musically. "You must be a real heartbreaker."

"Actually, it's been a while. Almost four years."

"Could've fooled me," she said. "I feel so sorry for all the other ladies out there. They don't know what they've been missin'."

I felt my cheeks get hot. I tried telling myself there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

"So who was she?" she asked.

"Who?"

She rolled over and propped her head up on her hand. "The only two people who can go on a dry spell for that long are priests and saints, and you are neither."

"I was married once," I said, surprised at how easily I could confess such a personal issue to her. In fact, it didn't feel like such a tender subject anymore, and I kept on going even after I decided to let it drop. "After she died I buried myself in work, and I've been digging myself out ever since, I guess."

She listened silently, and I could feel her crimson eyes regarding me coolly. "I figured you for the settle-down type."

"Which brings me to my question," I said. "You don't really strike me as the romantic type."

"I'm not," she said.

"So why would you chose to spend the night with someone like me?"

She shrugged. "Even bad women like good men," she said. "Besides, I knew what you wanted almost from the moment we met. I wanted the same thing. Anybody can see you're a catch, but even good men get the itch one in a while. I just didn't know why you hesitated for so long until now."

I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her back on top of me. I kissed her, letting my hands roam down her back, tracing the outline of her spine until I reached the dimples above her butt. My fingertips left a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"I'm glad I stopped hesitating."

* * *

"Well, what do you know?" said Vivian. "The cold fish finally thawed out."

"You make it sound so melodramatic," Kevin said.

"It sounds like she wasn't the only one who had fun," Vivian replied.

"I thought you'd be more shocked," said Kevin. "One night stands aren't my usual style."

"Some style is better than none," Vivian quipped. "God... _four years._ You needed to get out."

"I was in a parallel cyberverse. How much more out can you get?"

"That's not what I meant," said Vivian. "Kevin, why wait for so long?"

Kevin was quiet for a while. Vivian wasn't sure if he'd even heard her. He had a far-off look in his eyes, and he was very still, his steady breathing his only source of movement.

"In a way I was still grieving," Kevin said. "I've been carrying this guilt with me for so long, the temptation of escaping it for a few hours...it was too good to pass up."

"Guilt over what?" asked Vivian.

"I always thought when someone you loved was in trouble, you were supposed to feel something," Kevin said. "You were supposed to know when they needed you. When Jessica died in that crash, I was working. I didn't even know her plane had been hijacked until I turned on the news. That whole day I was in my study, trying to figure out how to reintegrate two-dimensional anyons within a four-dimensional supergravity theory. The whole world could have blown up, and I wouldn't have noticed."

"Kevin," Vivian said, "it wasn't your fault. There's no way you could have known."

"I know that," he said, "up here." He tapped his head with his finger. "But down here." He patted the spot above his heart, shaking his head slowly. "I was punishing myself, Viv. All those years since."

"And now?"

"I'm not okay," he said. "But I'm working on it."

Vivian left a few minutes later. It was after midnight, and Kevin needed to rest. She promised to drop in and check on him in the morning. Kevin dragged himself up the stairs and fell on the bed face first. He was out before he hit the pillow.


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5: Doc Sawyer vs. The Metal Menace from Mars**

Kevin awoke ten hours later. He didn't feel any better. He pushed himself out of bed, careful not to jar his body too much. He took a long, hot shower and hoped the scalding water would help ease the pain in his muscles. At least he didn't hurt all over anymore. After drying off, he put on a flannel robe and flip-flops. He looked prepared to do absolutely nothing all day. His brain, and every other bodily system, was craving caffeine.

He went downstairs to the kitchen to make a steaming pot of delicious-in-a-cup. Vivian was already there.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," Kevin said upon seeing her perched on a stool. "The neighbors will start to think you're my housekeeper."

"You can't afford me," she said.

She handed him a coffee mug. It was sky blue with the phrase "E=mcHAMMER" painted on it with red letters. Kevin poured himself a cup and added gobs and gobs of cream and sugar.

After taking a long, delightful sip he sighed blissfully and said: "God bless you, you sweet English nanny."

"And for my next miracle..." Vivian pushed a plate towards him. Scrambled eggs, a grapefruit half and two strips of lean bacon.

In less than two minutes the plate was clean.

"You look a little better," she said.

"Yea. It only hurts when I move, now," he said. "But don't fret. I'll be ready to take on Rampage Jackson as soon as the sugar and caffeine hit the bloodstream." He poured himself a second cup of coffee and added even more milk and sugar than before.

"So," he said, "I suppose you'll want to hear the rest of my little adventure."

"You may have piqued my curiosity," Vivian replied.

Kevin insisted they move back into the living room. This time, he took the recliner and Vivian took a corner of the couch.

"Where was I?"

"The love scene," she said.

"Uhh...yea. That."

"There's no use in getting embarrassed, Kevin," Vivian said. "I lived through the 60's, you know."

"Right. Anyway, the next morning things went totally crazy. Again."

* * *

Violet was gone when I woke up. I was kind of grateful for that. It let me skip past the awkward "morning after" stage and get right to work. As I dressed, I made a mental list of what needed to be done. Getting the teleportation device working was obviously priority number one because with it, I could go anywhere in the system instantly without having to trek through the different game realities. As soon as that was done, I'd have to go get Dot and bring her back here so we could go to the Principal Office together and activate the system restore. Before I did any of that, though, I'd need to recon the Principal Office and see how to get to the core room. According to Welman, the teleporter in his lab was a hit-or-miss machine without a fixed landing site. Someone would have to actually 'port into the building, search for the core room and tag it with a radioactive marker.

I already had some ideas about how to fix the machine that I wanted to run by Welman, but I needed to eat before my stomach tore itself to pieces. I went out into the hallway and found the kitchen. I made a few PB&Js and took the elevator upstairs to Welman's lab. I saw no sign of Mouse or the others until I heard a crash somewhere toward the back. I ran in the direction of the commotion and ducked as Ray came flying overhead and crashed into the wall behind me. He was smoldering, and his silver skin was scorched.

"Better run, mate," he said, getting up. "She's on fire."

 _"Mercuryyyy!"_

I turned and saw Mouse come flying through a semicircular passage. She sounded angry, and she was literally on fire. Every inch of her body was covered in orange flame, flowing over her body like a fluid.

I turned back to Ray. "What did you do?"

"It was just a joke," he said.

"How's this for a punch line?" Mouse said. She drew her arm back like she was going to throw a baseball. What came out of her hand was a superheated ball of plasma that streaked right by my face and narrowly missed Ray.

His board swooped down and he hopped on it, keeping me in between him and Mouse. They were circling each other while I kept spinning around, my sandwich still in my hand, trying to keep track of them.

"Hell hath no fury, eh?" he said tauntingly.

"You should probably stop antagonizing her," I said.

"It's not my fault the minx doesn't have a sense of humor."

"Oh, I got it," Mouse said. "Invisible suit. That was a good one. Only he neglected to mention the person wearing it doesn't turn invisible with it!"

"Oh," I said, "so it just..."

" _Vanished!_ And good 'ole Martin here got a nice little gander of everything underneath."

"Yikes. And the pyrokinesis?"

"The superpower suit does more than just turn invisible," said Enzo. He suddenly appeared through the same corridor Mouse had come. "I'm sorry about Martin's practical joke, miss. This isn't the first time he's exploited the glitch in the invisibility cloak for his own amusement. And as much as I'd love to see the karma kicked out of him, I'm afraid I can't risk you destroying my father's lab in the process." He tapped a touch key on his armband, and the flames disappeared.

Mouse, no longer supported by the electromagnetic field from the plasma, landed on her feet like a cat. The superpower suit was a slate gray jumpsuit with a series of chords and flashing electrodes woven into it. It looked about as safe as an electric chair.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd put that suit back where you found it," Enzo said. "Don't worry about Martin. I'll deal with him."

"Don't bother," Mouse said, turning back toward the tunnel. "I'll get him next time."

Once she was gone, Enzo sighed. "You're worse than a teenager," he said to Ray.

"She's not the first woman to spit fire at me," Ray said.

"Right. She only has to be the last. Honestly, Martin, you need to learn when 'no' really means ' _no_ '. Contrary to popular belief, you are not the center of the universe. Now promise me you'll keep your hands to yourself, at least until we straighten this mess out. Dad thinks the whole world might be in danger, and I need you to focus."

Ray hung his head and nodded. "Fine. You win this time, Captain Killjoy."

"Thank you," Enzo said. "Now, the sensors picked up an atmospheric disturbance moving toward the city. We're not sure if its natural or if it's got something to do with these energy fields. Could you check it out? I've already sent coordinates to your Blackberry."

"I'm on it," said Ray. "I'll be there and back in no time."

Enzo tossed him a PDA, and he soared out of the room, passing through the nearest wall like a ghost.

"You're actually who I was looking for," Enzo said. "My father's on the other side of the lab. He needs to speak with you."

I followed him through the spacious laboratory that occupied the entirety of this floor. We wove our way past numerous worktables as well as many a wondrous and bizarre machine who's purpose I could only guess.

"I owe you an apology," said Enzo.

"For what?"

"Martin was right yesterday. When the _Homo reptilians_ attacked, you fought back the best way you could. I jumped down your throat for all the wrong reasons."

"We're good," I said. "I wasn't in the best mood either, so let's just call it even."

"Swell. I'm glad there's no hard feelings."

 _Wow. Next thing we'll be hanging out at the malt shop in matching letterman jackets. It'll be swell._ "I'm curious about a few things, Rex," I said. "Your dad and I have been out of touch for a while. In fact, I was shocked when I first saw him here. Did you inherit your powers from him?"

"Not exactly," he said. "I nearly died from a blood disease when I was a little kid. My dad created a cure by splicing my DNA with genetic material from alien cells he discovered on another planet. My body started metabolizing solar radiation, kind of like how a plant absorbs sunlight for photosynthesis. Anyway, I make a complete recovery only to find out my bones and muscles have become as dense as uranium, and I can control my own gravitational field. The rest is history."

"And Martin? Where's he from?"

"He was a volunteer in one of my father's first experiments with the teleporter," Enzo said. "The machine worked insofar as transporting him across a hundred feet of empty space, but it altered his phase space in the process. His body has all the properties of a quantum fluid."

"Like supercooled helium-2?"

"It's almost exactly like helium-2, except his body temperature never varies. He's a constant 98.6 degrees all the time, even when he's using his powers. We don't quite know how he's still alive."

We finally found Welman tinkering with a piece of machinery meant for the teleporter.

"Ah, Kevin, I see Rex found you after all," said Welman. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, thank you. Listen I have few ideas for fixing the teleporter. It seems to me you're having the same trouble my team had when we first built our own digitization platform. The molecules suspended within the laser beams keep causing the particle streams to lose coherence."

"That's right," said Welman. "I can't get the energy patterns to reintegrate properly without causing a shift in phase space. I thought I could compensate by using gold nanofibres in the waveguide."

"It's a step in the right direction," I said, "but you're going to need more. The reason you keep shifting phase spaces is because you don't have a quantum computer to properly collapse all the undesired wave functions, leaving the original phase space as the only outcome."

"Sounds excitin'," Mouse said as she sauntered our way. She was back in her turquoise catsuit. "Sorry about back there. I wasn't aimin' for you."

"Just make sure I'm not in the same room next time you decide to flame on," I said.

She raised an eyebrow and smirked. "You didn't complain last night."

I heard Enzo snicker. I chanced a glance at Welman. He was looking at me curiously, but he said nothing. Luckily, Mouse saved me from an embarrassing explanation.

"So, what are you boys workin' on back here?" she asked.

"We're trying to fix this machine," Enzo said pointing to the teleporter. "It's a teleportation device. With it, we can transport ourselves anywhere instantly. Unfortunately, it's got some bugs. Dr. Sawyer thinks he knows how to fix it."

"It all has to do with Schrodinger's wave equation," I said. "In the 1920s, Erwin Schrodinger developed a mathematical tool called the wave function. It was a quantum mechanical way to describe objects-everything from individual atoms to the universe itself-as waveforms."

"I'm familiar with this," said Welman. "Quantum physics shows us that matter has a dual nature; it can behave as both particles and waves."

"Exactly," I continued. "Schrodinger believed that when a particle wasn't being observed, it behaved like a statistical wave; it occupied a series of physical states simultaneously. He called this state superposition. Only when an observation was made, like during an experiment, did the waveform collapse into a particle, no longer in a state of multiple probabilities but a state of absolute certainty. The wave equation allowed scientists to compute all possible states of an electron during superposition and what its probable state would be when the wave collapsed. It solved the electron orbital problem associated with the classical Bohr model of the atom by incorporating the concept of wave-particle duality."

"I see why we would need a quantum computer," said Enzo. "The calculations needed to eliminate all the unwanted probabilities associated with reintegration would be astronomical. Without it, we'd all go through superposition with no way of choosing our correct physical state, and we'd all end up in a different phase space like Martin."

"Can you build one of these quantum computers?" asked Mouse.

"It took a team of over a hundred people a year and a half to build one," I said. "Luckily, I have something that might work just as well and it'll only take a few hours to build, provided I have all the materials."

"What are you thinking, Kevin?" asked Welman.

"A reverse waveguide," I said. "Two intersecting waves will interfere with each other, and depending on their frequencies they'll either strengthen each other or cancel one another out. We need to build a reverse waveguide into the primary waveguide assembly. It'll split the beam in two and reflect it back on itself, collapsing every other phase state probability and force the original to remain intact."

"Have you done this before?" asked Enzo.

"No. Nanomaterials where I came from are too unreliable. The heat from the lasers can actually alter the chemical properties of the waveguides and melt the machine. I'm hoping the materials here will work better."

"We have to at least try," said Welman. "Kevin, you get started drawing up the schematics. I'll finish disassembling the waveguide assembly. Rex, you work on preparing the nanomaterials."

I wrote down a list of all the materials we'd need and their exact dimensions on a piece of note paper and handed it to Enzo. He nodded diligently and retreated into the inner sanctum of the laboratory. With a protractor and compass, I set to work drawing up a schematic of the reverse waveguide. Violet remained quiet but kept close to me while Welman and I worked.

"That's what's happened to the world, isn't it?" asked Violet.

"What?" I asked.

"What you were talking about before, about objects having certain states of being, that they can exist in different states at the same time when no one's watching. The world's been split into these different phase spaces, and we can't remember anything except those spaces we got trapped in. That's what you were trying to tell me."

I stopped working and turned to her. "Violet, I want to try something. I'm going to say a word, and I want you to say the first thing that comes to your mind."

"Alright."

"Okay. _Algorithm_."

"Function," she replied promptly.

" _Program_."

"Software."

" _Firmware_ ," I said.

"City."

" _Hacking_."

"Fun."

I sat back and crossed my arms, thinking. I could tell she was curious.

"Why did I say those things?" she finally asked.

"Why do you think you said them?"

"I don't know. I don't even know what an _al-go-rhythm_ is." She was wringing her hands in her lap. I'd never seen Mouse look so vulnerable. I reached out and took her hands.

"I'm going to fix this," I said. I held her gaze for a few seconds then got up. "Welman, I need to talk to you."

I took him aside and out of earshot.

"Welman," I said, "just how much of Mouse is still in there? I mean, am I talking with a completely different person, or is it Mouse I'm talking to, she just doesn't know who she really is?"

"It's hard for me to say," Welman said. "Nothing like this has ever happened before. From what I can tell it's like they've all rebooted inside a game. Automatically, that means they've assimilated skills and knowledge that helps them survive while the game is running, but their personalities, the core of who they are, have been warped to fit whatever environment they got trapped in."

"So would it be reasonable to say that these characters would react to certain situations the same way their real counterparts would?" I asked.

"Again, it's difficult to know for sure. We're all capable of anything given the right circumstances. Does this have anything to do with that quip Mouse made earlier?"

"It...has to do with a lot of things," I said. "But mainly that."

Welman seemed to ponder this for a few seconds. "It's none of my business, but that might not have been the best idea."

"Part of me wants to agree," I said. "What'll happen to her after the system restore?"

"It's not a fix-all," Welman said. "The people who were affected might retain some memory of their alternate personas, but for the most part it will be like resetting the system to its settings at the last restore checkpoint. There might be some déjà vu, perhaps, but for the majority it will be like waking up from a dream."

It was appealing and disappointing at the same time; appealing because it meant Mouse wouldn't remember what she'd done as Violet; disappointing because I wasn't sure if I wanted Mouse to forget being Violet.

"I'd like to give you some advice," Welman said. "Unfortunately, my expertise with women begins and ends with: 'Your bunsen burner or mine?'"

"Did that really work?" I asked amusedly.

"More often than it statistically should have."

I laughed. It was a good, hearty laugh and I was grateful for it. All I'd done that week it seemed was frown and grimace.

"Kevin, there's something else we need to discuss about the machine," he said. "I don't think I have a suitable power source. I've looked at the numbers, and with the addition of the reverse waveguide, power requirements have tripled."

"How much more energy do we need?"

"On the order of 1.21 gigawatts of electricity," he said.

I think I blinked a few times. "1.21 gigawatts?" I asked. "You're serious?"

"Yes. Why, is something funny?"

"No, no. Well, yes. Let's just say I've given up trying to figure this place out." The building started to shake. "Another quake."

"No," Welman said. "This is different. The vibration's all wrong."

I followed him to the nearest row of windows. Mouse was already there, looking out over the horizon. There was a glowing shape coming down through the clouds, spreading them apart like a plow through a field.

"Dad!" Enzo called. "It's Martin. He's on the com!"

We rushed to a large computer console with a wide, transparent screen that showed three-dimensional images. Ray's face was on the screen, but it was distorted. He was saying something, but static was drowning out his voice.

 _"...not an...mospheric disturb...alien sp...ce vehicle...read me...coming...over city...send backup..."_

The transmission cut off abruptly.

"Never a dull moment," I said.

"I've triangulated Martin's position," said Enzo. "He's ahead of the spacecraft, but it's gaining on him. Whatever it is it's big. Satellite telemetry indicates it's almost as big as The Citadel."

"I'll call the authorities and have the mayor issue an evacuation of the immediate area," said Welman. "En... _Rex_." Welman sighed. "Be careful, son."

Enzo smiled confidently. "I'm always careful, dad." He ran over to a window and pushed it opened. "Stay frosty." Then he jumped out and soared into the sky Superman-style, zooming to meet the alien menace.

"I can't believe I'm letting my son go off like this," Welman said. "It's bad enough he upgraded into a teenager right in front of me, but he has to go flying away to fight games."

"Maybe we can help," Violet said. "There's gotta be something in here we can use to fight with. Like that fancy light gun Sawyer had yesterday. Got any of those lying around?"

"I'm sure there is," Welman said. "But this isn't my real laboratory, and I don't know what half these things are for."

"Does the hypersaucer have weapons?" I asked.

"I...wait. Yes! Great Scott, I'd forgotten all about it! It has laser cannons, rail guns and sidewinder missiles armed with antimatter warheads."

"Perfect," I said. "I'll need a way to get on board, too."

"What?" asked Violet. "What for?"

"How much you wanna bet that ship's got an energy source big enough to power the teleporter?"

"But, Kevin," said Welman, "it's practically suicide."

"Then give me something to work with," I said. "That ray gun will do for a start."

Welman took us to another workbench and picked it up. "I replaced the battery with a kinetic energy power cell. It shouldn't run out on you."

On the same table I saw a cylindrical device that resembled a metal wand. It had a telescoping head with a circular crystal on top. "What's this?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," said Welman. "I think it's a sonic servo. It's not quite as good as a keytool, but the principle is the same and it can unlock almost anything."

I put it in my pocket. "Anything else?"

Welman pulled out a watch from his lab coat. "There's this. It's a control unit for a weapon system hidden somewhere in the city, but I don't know how to activate it."

"What do you mean you don't know how to activate it?" I asked.

"It's keyed to respond to a voice code, but I don't know what the code is."

I put it on my wrist. I handed the ray gun to Violet, but she shook her head. "I've got it covered," she said. She pulled out two metallic handles like the hilts of samurai swords. "I found these next to the superpower suit," she said. She pressed the buttons on their surfaces and beams of orange light shot out from their tops.

"Lightsabers," I said in awe. "Now we're talking."

Mouse could pilot the hypersaucer better than I could. She steered the craft toward the parting layer of clouds over the city. A beam of light sliced across the sky and we finally saw the monstrous shape break through. It was like a black dandelion with the flowering head turned downward toward the city. The underside was made up of millions of pointed spires and antennas spreading out from the center.

"My, God," whispered Violet.

I consulted the saucer's sensors. "We're being pinged."

"What does that mean?"

"It's scanning us with radio waves," I said. "The saucer's shape naturally allows the waves to pass right over us without reflecting them back, so we're practically invisible to their instruments."

Welman's voice came in over the com system. "Kevin, I'm looking at the satellite telemetry right now. There appears to be some sort of hatch on top of the ship. Looking at it, I'd say it's your best bet for an entrance."

Mouse received the coordinates and started gaining altitude.

"Where's Rex and Mercury?" asked Violet. "They should have already headed this thing off."

"Kevin," said Welman, "I'm receiving a transmission. It's coming in on all frequencies. It's the aliens."

"Let's hear what they have to say, then," I said. I isolated one of their frequencies and put it through.

" _People of Earth, we are the Modular Men. Your attempts to halt our incursion into your atmosphere have failed._ " An image appeared on the screen in front of me. It was Enzo and Ray. They had their arms and legs locked inside restraints, and their bodied were frozen inside some kind of force field. " _Your superhuman defense system has been neutralized. Your defeat is imminent. Lay down your arms and prepare to be assimilated into the Overmind. You will adapt to serve the superior lifeforms of Mars. Resistance will result in your immediate extermination."_

The message started to repeat and I closed the channel. Welman was silent.

"Enzo's still alive, Welman," I said. "We'll get him and Ray back, I promise."

"I...I know," he said. He didn't sound very sure. "Be careful. The both of you."

We were above the ship now. Violet turned the controls over to the autopilot.

"It's eerie," she said. "I feel like I've done this before."

"Try not to think about it," I said. "Let's just get in and out."

She nodded. We used the gravity lift to lower ourselves down onto the surface of the ship. We each had a Bluetooth earpiece that allowed us to communicate.

"The hatch should be somewhere around here," I said, looking at the hull.

The ship was made of millions of tiny pieces of metal chips. It was mostly flat, which allowed us to move around easily.

"I'm not seeing anything," Violet said. "Professor, are you sure there's a door here?"

I heard Welman's response through the earpiece. "Positive. I can see you on thermal imaging. You're close, within fifteen feet. Turn to your left and move straight ahead."

While Violet followed his instructions, I noticed a peculiar ripple effect happening to the hull. It looked like the metal was warping, as if something were moving underneath the surface.

"Kevin, you've got trouble," Welman said. "I'm picking up other heat signatures headed your way."

"I see them," I said, pulling out my ray gun.

The ripples stopped, and I watched as a hand reachd up through the warping metal, like something was climbing out of a pool of water. It was black, like the rest of the ship, and its limbs were clearly mechanical. Its head, when it appeared, was faceless, but I saw a menacing red eye bounce back and forth along a horizontal slit in its forehead. It's hands were sharp titanium claws-again with the claws!-and its legs were powered by hydraulic pistons. There were several of these attack drones.

"We've been made!" I shouted.

" _Hiiiyaaa_!" Violet was already slicing through two of them with her dual lightsabers. "Thanks for the warning, sugah."

I didn't waste any more time. I drew a bead on the two closest targets and blasted them with one shot a piece. The white ray literally reduced them to bits. Violet unleashed an array of acrobatics, flipping and kicking and disabling multiple drones as elegantly as if she were swaying to a silent rhythm. I didn't let up for a second; I kept blasting away until all the drones near me were vanquished. For a moment, I thought we'd won.

"That was a little too easy," I said.

"I thought so, too," Violet said.

Just like that, the drones reappeared, building themselves back up from their shattered remains. For some reason the one's I'd destroyed with my ray gun didn't regenerate; instead, the ship seemed to create new ones to replace them.

One took a swing at me with its claw. I managed to dodge around it and fire a blast directly into its head. Another seized me by the shoulder and spun me around. It held me firmly while its other hand transformed into an oversized drill. Violet beheaded it with a swipe from her lightsaber.

"We need to find this door," she shouted.

Two more came toward us; Violet twirled her lightsabers and engaged them.

"You're both right by it," said Welman through the earpiece.

I looked around. The metal was seamless. I remembered the sonic servo and took it out of my pocket. After examining it, I found a rotating ring that served as the mode selector switch. I rotated it until the arrow pointed to the figure of an open lock. I extended the telescoping head and, while holding the activator button, waved it over the hull in a zig-zag pattern.

 _"..."_

A small separation appeared in the metal and the door sprung open.

I turned just in time to blast one of the drones creeping up behind Violet.

"Time to go!" I shouted.

I grabbed her hand and helped her into the hole. The entrance sealed on top of us as we descended into the ship. We used a series of hand-holds to make our way down through the shaft. The bottom opened into a curving hallway. The interior walls were the same as the outer hull, a jumbled conjoining of metal pieces that formed an ovular tube running through the spacecraft. Emerald light reflected off every surface, casting us in an ominous, infectious green cloak.

"I don't think I like the look of this," Violet said.

"Me either. Welman, can you read us?"

"I can," he responded. "I've still got your thermal signatures on sensors. It looks clear in your immediate area."

"Have you found Ray and Enzo?" I asked.

"I think so," said Welman. "They're in a room not far from where you dropped in. I should be able to guide you to them."

"What about anything that looks like a power source? Fuel cells, fission reactors, anything."

"The ship's central power source seems to be a closed-loop negative energy vacuum emboitment."

"A wormhole?" I asked.

"Apparently one that's been turned back on itself to generate an inexhaustible supply of virtual particles."

"How am I supposed to get something like a wormhole off this ship?" I asked.

"It should be inside a containment cell, like a cube or a cylinder," he said.

"Fine," I said. I turned to Violet. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather stick together. Once we release Ray and Enzo they can create a distraction on the outside and give us the opportunity to make our move on the power core."

"Sounds like a plan," she said. "Lead the way, Mr. Science Officer."

Welman guided us through the ship. We didn't run into any more of those drones, which worried me.

"I'm not picking up any more heat signatures," said Welman. "Not like I did before when those robots attacked you."

"Welman, could these Modular Men be part of a von Neumann machine? A self-replicating machine intelligence?"

"It would certainly explain why I'm not showing any lifesigns on that ship," he said. "If the ship itself is some kind of organism then those robots that attacked you must have been part of its architecture; it created them spontaneously as a defensive measure."

"Why isn't it attacking us now?" asked Violet.

"It doesn't want to cause damage to itself," Welman said. "Outside its hull you weren't a threat, but inside it's vulnerable. It doesn't want you to start blasting away at its guts."

"Maybe that's what we should be doing," Violet said.

"Not until we free Enzo and Ray," I said. "I have a feeling once we turn those two loose, there's going to be all kinds of hell for us to deal with."

We entered a wide chamber. Enzo and Ray were suspended above us inside a force field, their arms and legs encased in the same metal as the rest of the ship.

"We've got them," I said. "They're in a force field. I can't tell what kind, but I'd say it's keeping them in a state of suspended animation."

"Your ray gun should disable it," Welman said. "The metal around you seems to exploit the weak nuclear force to hold itself together. The ray is powerful enough to disrupt the exchange of weak bosons between the metal fragments."

"Alright," I said. "Here's goes nothing."

I pointed the ray up at the force field and pulled the trigger. The white ray lit up the room like a camera flash. The field vanished and Enzo and Ray came crashing down to the floor, their bonds having been disintegrated.

"Blimey, mate," moaned Ray. "Couldn't you be more gentle with that thing?"

"I'll take that as a 'thank you'."

"What happened?" asked Enzo as he picked himself up off the floor.

"You two got captured," Violet said. "We're the rescue mission."

The lights in the room dimmed and flickered. Somewhere I heard something like a great engine rev up.

"I think we've made it mad," I said.

"What is _it_ exactly?" asked Enzo.

"We think it's a von Neumann machine," I said. "Which means as soon as this thing touches down it'll start eating and converting whatever raw material it can find to increase its own mass."

"So pummeling it to pieces won't work," Enzo said.

"No, but my ray gun will," I said. I handed it to him. "The light beam does something to the metal that interrupts the flow of W and Z particles between the individual fragments. See if you can modify the weapons on the hypersaucer to do the same."

"You've got it?"

"Violet will take you through the hatch we found," I said. "Once outside, attack it anyway that you can."

"What are you gonna do?" asked Ray.

"I've got to get to its energy source. We need this ship's core to power the teleporter."

"How are you going to get off the ship?" asked Violet.

"Let me worry about that," I said. Again, the lights flickered and we felt the ship rattle. "Get going."

We exited into the hall. Violet gave me one last long look before turning and running down the corridor with Ray and Enzo following behind.

"Alright, Welman," I said, "take me to the core."

* * *

Vivian was on the edge of her seat, literally. She had been perched on the ledge of the sofa cushion for the last five minutes, her hands in her lap and her knees bouncing up and down as she rocked on her toes.

"How did you plan on getting off that ship?" she asked.

"That's the best part of the story," Kevin said. "Well, maybe not the best overall, but it's still pretty cool."

"I'm having trouble believing all of it," she said. "I mean, it's all so... cliché."

"You're telling me," replied Kevin. "Then again, I'm not the one who designed these games."

"Just think, all this happens in their world almost on a regular basis," Vivian said. "Every time someone loads a computer game, they get to reinvent themselves."

"It's not too fun for them," said Kevin. "Remember, if they loose, an entire sector gets nullified along with the people inside."

"I don't understand that," Vivian said. "Why should it matter if they win or loose. It's just a game."

"I don't know why it happens," Kevin said. "I have an idea, but I can't prove it, of course."

"Why not?"

"Because it would take a computer larger than the universe itself to prove me right."

"Ah. That infospace idea of Simon Deacon's," said Vivian. "I wonder what your old professor would say if he knew about what you've been doing."

"He'd probably go stark raving mad if he hasn't already," Kevin said. "Deacon always thought cyberspace was just the first level of a much deeper reality. Given what I've seen, I'm starting to think he was on to something."

"Whatever happened to him?" asked Vivian. "The last paper I saw that he published was dated 1993."

Kevin shrugged. "I haven't heard anything about him since I was a post-doc at MIT. I just assumed he retired. Anyway, where were we? Right, the ship. I was about to steal its power core."

* * *

I followed Welman's guidance and found the central core. Like its name implied, it was in the center of the spacecraft. It was a circular room whose walls curved upwards and formed a ring with two terminals that met in the center. In between the two points was a spinning cube, except it wasn't a cube; it was a tesseract; the four-dimensional equivalent of a cube.

It's hard to describe what I was seeing. It didn't rotate like a normal cube would. Instead, the inside and outside dimensions continuously replaced one another, as if it were being turned inside out, only to form the same cube shape over and over again. It occurred to me that I should really be afraid of the thing, but as I approached it I felt a series of vibrations shake the ship. They must have started their attack.

I pulled out the sonic servo and twisted the mode selector switch to the 'off' symbol. Hopefully, it would turn the power system off long enough for me to remove the tesseract.

 _"Identify yourself."_

The ship was speaking to me.

"Just call me the doctor," I said. "Now, hold still because I'm about to perform some surgery."

 _"Removal of the vacuum emboitment will result in termination of all primary systems."_

"Well, that's just too bad," I said. "You should have picked a different planet to eat."

I waved the servo over the tesseract, looking for any reaction. Meanwhile, the ship continued to roll and rumble.

 _"The knowledge and culture of this world will be preserved forever in the Overmind."_

"Aren't you just a regular brainiac."

All the lights on the first terminal went out. The servo was working. I continued to wave it over the second one.

 _"You are not just killing this vessel, human. You are destroying every world it has assimilated. You are committing genocide."_

"No, I'm playing a game. You, my friend, are just a preprogrammed character in a computer simulation with absolutely no independent thought. Which is why I will sleep just fine when I get home after all this is over."

The second terminal powered down. The tesseract stopped spinning and came to rest in a solid cube shape. I grabbed it and turned to leave.

 _"You have stopped nothing. This planet...is...ours."_

After that the whole ship seemed to just die. Everything, all the lights, all the noise, everything just quit working. It was at that moment I felt the effect of free fall.

"Sawyer!" Violet said through my earpiece. "Get out of there! The whole thing is falling apart!"

Using the glowing light of the cube, I navigated my way back toward the escape hatch. I didn't make it. The ship made a sickening lurch and I was tossed against a wall. I heard a ripping sound all around me and suddenly I was exposed to open air. The whole damn ship had split in two, tearing itself apart under its own weight.

I was plummeting towards the Earth, spinning in all directions. I held on to the cube, knowing it was the only thing that mattered right now. The air was rushing past me. I kept my eyes shut. I couldn't breathe. It was like being in a wind tunnel. I reached under my shirt, felt the dial on the suit underneath and pressed it.

I'd donned the superpower suit as a last minute thought, to use just in case something like this happened. It was still set to the flame power function from earlier, and I suddenly found myself covered in orange flames. I felt my descent slow gradually until I came to a stop in midair. I took a few seconds to just look at myself and get used to the feeling of flying, to say nothing of how I was breathing when I was covered from head to toe in plasma. It was moments like this that really made all the crap I'd gone through completely worth it.

Then the broken remains of the space ship came crashing down around me, and I snapped out of it. I accidentally dropped the cube in my haste.

"Snap!" I dove after it, leaving a fire trail in my wake.

I finally caught it, but my achievement was overshadowed when a piece of debris smacked into me, causing me to loose my concentration. I lost the cube _again_ , dove for it _again_ and caught it a second time before it hit the pavement.

After making a landing, I turned the suit off. My regular clothes were gone, having been incinerated by the heat. It was raining little metal chips. The ship was breaking up into its tinniest components before they got close enough to the ground to cause any real damage. It was like getting showered with pennies.

"Sawyer!" I heard Violet shout into the earpiece. "Sawyer! Did you make it?"

"I made it," I said.

"Thank God," she breathed. "Where are you?"

"I'm on the ground."

"What? How did you...?"

"I had the superpower suit on under my clothes," I said.

I heard her laugh triumphantly. "You sly devil. I was wondering what kind of ace you had up your sleeve."

"The good news is: the ship is breaking up into its smallest pieces before they hit the ground," I said. "The better news is: I've got the power source."

"That's great Kevin," said Welman. "Unfortunately, there is some bad news."

I frowned. "There's always something."

"Remember how we compared that ship to an organism? Well, just before its power levels terminated, something detached from the ship. I think it was the nucleus or whatever the equivalent is for a von Neumann device."

"Where did it land?" asked Enzo.

"About a block from Kevin's location," Welman said.

"We're on our way, mate," Ray said. "Just sit tight."

I heard a great thud behind me and I turned. "That's going to be tough," I said.

In front of me was an oily blob of viscous material that must have been over twenty feet high. It slowly formed into a bipedal shape with the head and limbs of a human but with the mechanical components of a robot showing through from beneath. Two large, round holes formed blue-glowing pupiless eyes. The mouth was a horizontal slit that tried to stick together when it opened to utter an ear piercing screech.

"Kevin, hang on!" Violet said. "We're on our way to get you."

"Get here quick!" I said as I turned to run.

The thing was already coming after me. I knew I couldn't outrun it, so I switched to a different superpower. I didn't see which one it was. Before I could stop to figure it out, the von Neumann monster swatted me with its powerful hydraulic arm. I went spinning through the air and hit the wall of a nearby building. What should have been a spine-shattering impact felt like walking to a swinging door. I looked at the dial and saw I'd activated the indestructible power.

I got up and noticed I'd dropped the cube in the middle of the street. The von Neumann monster scooped it up and swallowed it like it was eating a grape. I watched in horror as it began to grow taller and more massive until its shadow reached the end of the boulevard. It was now fifteen or sixteen stories high and twice as scary.

"Welman," I said, "that weapon system you were talking about? It would be really handy right now."

"I told you I don't know the voice code," he said.

"What about the ray gun? Can the lasers on the hypersaucer be modified to fire the white ray?"

"I'm still working on it," said Enzo, "but I'm going to need more time."

"We're outta time!" I yelled.

The creature noticed me again and moved like he was going to step on me. I ran out of the way and felt the ground shake as his massive foot caved in the pavement.

As I was running, I tried speaking into the watch, saying phrases at random.

" _Activate_...uhhh... _target...terminate...fire_..."

I realized that if it was voice activated then it would probably be a phrase that wasn't likely to come up during a normal conversation. Then I thought of the watch itself and thought it might have some significance other than being the actuator. On the dial were words I'd originally thought were the maker and watch model.

 _Big Jack. Showtime!_

I stopped and turned to face the von Neumann menace, ready to make my stand. I raised the watch to my face and yelled: "Big Jack, it's _showtime_!"

The watch lit up. Almost immediately the ground started to shake. Every manhole cover along the street popped off one after another until the ground under my feet cracked open and I was swept up into the hands of a giant black robot.

Yes, I know how it sounds, but it's the truth. A giant black robot, taller than the von Neumann monster, rose out of the ground and scooped me up in its hands. A section of the chest opened up and I jumped in. I was inside a control room with a chair surrounded by flashing lights and numerous controls. I sat in the seat; a mechanical arm placed a helmet on my head. A Heads-Up-Display gave me visuals of the outside while three circular screens in front showed me technical information on the robot.

When I moved my arms and hands, I saw the arms and hands of the robot do the same thing through the HUD. Whatever I did or thought, it mimicked.

"Ok, Big Jack, what kind of firepower are you packing?"

One of the screens had a wireframe diagram of the robot. A highlighted portion of the chest cavity flashed.

"Whatever it is let 'em have it!"

Shutters on the chest cavity opened and fired a compliment of missiles at the monster. The multiple detonations sent it stumbling backwards, screaming wildly. It fired bolts of lightning from its eyes, striking Big Jack and shorting some circuits. The room filled with the smell of burning electronics.

"Fine. Let's get physical," I said.

I thought about walking up and punching it square in the face. Big Jack did just that. The robot's giant metal fist delivered a blow powerful enough to level a skyscraper, but the creature just shrugged it off and tried electrocuting me again. Alarms started going off and indicators flashed red.

"C'mon, Big Jack, keep it together. Give me some real firepower."

The diagram highlighted the portion of the robot's head above the brow. Before I could activate it, the creature was bombarded with a series of crimson energy bursts. Ray was with me now, soaring through the air on his board and trying to get the monster off me.

"Couldn't wait to start the party, could'ja?" he said.

It worked. The von Neumann monster let go of Big Jack and tried to hit Ray with its bolts of eye lightning. Enzo flew in and rammed directly into its chest, knocking it backwards. He delivered a super uppercut to its face and kept up with a series of left and right hooks; he never let the beast have a moment to react.

"Rex, move out of the way!" I said. "Now, Big Jack, let's finish this!"

The robot's skull opened up revealing a three-mirror laser. A beam of violet light cut through the air and sliced right through the von Neumann monster. It bellowed like a wounded animal as it fell on its back. Almost immediately it started to regenerate.

"I can't believe it," I said. "It's still alive."

"Not for much longer," Violet said. The hypersaucer came in low and slow. "Head's up, cutie pie!" The saucer fired a beam of white ray energy from its underside. It hit the von Neumann creature dead center.

It roared in pain as it started to disintegrate. Slowly, but surely, the creature from Mars fell to pieces.

I exited the robot through an elevator which took me to a hatch in its foot. Before me were the smoldering remains of the metal menace from Mars. Ray and Enzo landed next to me.

"Nice going, Doc," said Enzo. "That idea for the white ray was genius."

"Thanks for bailing us out back there," Ray said. "We owe you big time."

"I had help." I looked up and watched as Mouse slowly descended via the saucer's gravity lift.

"I gotta hand it to you, Sawyer," she said, "you know how to show a girl a good time."

I laughed. "If this constitutes a first date, I'd hate to see what you call a quiet evening."

I turned my attention back to the remains of the creature and started searching through the debris.

"Is it just me," I heard Ray say, "or is there something going on between those two?"

"You're figuring that out _now_?" Enzo asked.

"Ah, ha!" I held up the cube. It was still glowing, and it appeared undamaged. "Let's get this back to The Citadel. We've still got to save the rest of the world."

Between me, Welman and Enzo, it only took a few hours-or microseconds in Mainframe parlance-to complete the reverse waveguide and adapt the cube to power the teleporter. Welman fired it up and a shimmering column of light rose out of the circular base of the machine like a searchlight.

"Ok, Kevin, I've locked the teleporter on the Principal Office," he said. "I'm not sure where inside you'll end up, but I've put you as close to the core control chamber as I can. I've programmed your sonic servo to emit a low level gamma radiation burst which will allow the teleporter to lock precisely on that location."

"What's to stop it from turning into something else like a squirt gun or a set of keys?" I asked.

"It very well may, but it will perform the same function regardless of its shape," he said.

"I'd wish you'd let me and Martin come with you," said Enzo. "From the looks of things, you'll need backup if it gets ugly in there."

"Your father and I may be the only two people here who can cross between realities safely," I said. "If you go through, you may loose your powers, and you could get hurt. It's best if I go it alone."

"I've also modified the earpiece," Welman said. "We'll be able to stay in constant contact as long as I can keep the teleporter stable. The earpiece is also equipped with a sensor array, so I'll be able to take readings of your environment and guide you in the right direction."

I put the bud in my ear and thanked them all. I looked at Violet, expecting some witty remark or snappy quip about charging in all gung-ho like Captain America. Instead she just looked at me like it was the last time we would ever see each other. Maybe she was right. The next time I saw her, she wouldn't be Violet anymore. She'd be Mouse again.

I pushed the thought out of my mind, knowing that's the way things had to be. I stepped up to the teleporter. Then I looked back one last time.

"I'll be seeing you around...Professor Matrix."

And then I stepped through.


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6: Battlefield Mainframe**

I was expecting to arrive in a grimy dungeon or torture chamber, given what I'd seen of the Principal Office through the viewer. So when I emerged in a meadow at nighttime, with the harvest moon winking at me from above a line of oak trees, I was obviously baffled.

I tapped the earpiece. "Welman," I said, "I think the teleporter goofed."

"Where are you," I heard him say over the crackle of static.

"I think I'm in another sector," I said. "By the looks of it, it's not one I'm familiar with."

"Oh, User," Welman said. "The reverse waveguide must have thrown off the calibrations. I'll have to run a complete analysis and adjust the mechanism manually."

"How long will that take?" I asked.

 _"-could...ake...while..."_

"Welman, you're breaking up," I said. There was a burst of static again. "Welman, come in, your transmission's all garbled."

 _"-slight malfunction...losing...'re...signal..."_

The earpiece went dead as another tremor began. This one was longer and more violent. Somewhere in the distance I heard trees falling and the sound of the earth splitting open. After it passed, I tried to reestablish communication for a few more minutes, hoping Welman could fix the problem quickly. It didn't look like that was going to happen. I looked around. My eyes had become accustomed to the darkness and I could see I was close to a road, so I walked towards it.

My clothing had changed again. I was wearing an oatmeal gray cotton shirt and twill khakis. Everything aside from the tremor was quiet and almost completely still. I say "almost" because through the trees I could hear movement. It sounded like someone or something was moving through the brush as slowly as possible to avoid making noise. I patted my pockets looking for the sonic serve and found it had turned into a Swiss Army knife. I kept to a low crouch and made my way toward the tree line. I listened carefully; I definitely heard movement, and whoever was moving was headed my way.

A figure appeared out of the brush, silhouetted against the starry sky. It was a binome.

"Who goes there?" I asked.

He visibly jumped and spun around. It looked like he was pointing a gun at me.

"Sound off, whoever you are," said the binome in a harsh whisper.

"Sawyer. Kevin Sawyer."

"American?"

For a moment I was caught off guard. "Yes. American."

"Military or civilian?" he asked, still keeping his gun on me.

"Civilian under military contract," I said. I recited my DoD classification, hoping the game reality would make me sound convincing. "Three-charlie-one-echo."

He relaxed and put his weapon away. He came up and shook my hand gleefully. "I thought all civilians had been evacuated hours ago."

"They must have missed me," I said. "Who are you?"

"Major Dan Wilson, Army Intelligence," he said. "You picked a helluva time to get lost, Sawyer."

"Why?"

"The Gerries are moving their front lines forward toward St. Claire," he said. "I've got tactical information for the marines holed up there."

Nobody had referred to the Germans as "Gerries" since World War II, so I figured I must have been in some kind of combat simulator set during that period. St. Claire sounded distinctly French, so using those two assumptions I tried to get more information.

"Do the French resistance have an outpost in St. Claire?"

Wilson nodded. "They've been sheltering the marines in the village for the past two weeks while waiting for me to make contact."

"In that case we'd better get you to St. Claire, major," I said. "The marines aren't known for their patience."

"This whole area is swarming with German patrols," said Wilson. "I almost got captured a few klicks back. They're gunning for me."

"Then they're less likely to suspect two people traveling together."

"How's your French?"

I grimaced. Languages were my greatest intellectual fault. "Lousy," I said.

"If we run into a patrol, let me do the talking. If they ask about you, I'll tell them you're mute."

"I don't have any papers."

Wilson said: "I'll tell them you're mute and stupid, then."

"I love this plan," I muttered.

We kept to the shadows, moving swiftly and quietly. We followed the road, but we didn't walk on it; the light from the moon made it look powder gray against the darkness of the field. About twenty minutes later we were stopped by a jeep full of German soldiers.

 _"Être boiteux!"_ one of them shouted.

We stopped as two of them, a sergeant and a private, jumped out and shined a light in our faces.

 _"Vos papiers,"_ said the sergeant, extending his gloved hand. The private had his rifle pointed at us. Wilson handed the soldier a booklet with his forged documents. _"Son trop,"_ snapped the sergeant.

 _"Il n'a pas de papiers,"_ said Wilson. _"Il est le fils de ma sœur retardée."_

The private laughed, but the sergeant silenced him with a glance and a grimace.

"If your French is as bad as your English," said the sergeant in accented English, "I'd hate to hear you speak German." He crumpled the papers and threw them on the ground.

He reached for his holster, but Wilson was already on the private, kicking the flashlight out of his hand. I sent the sergeant to the ground with a low kick to his knee. He cried out, but I silenced him with a hammer blow to the neck and a quick elbow strike to the jaw. The other soldiers in the jeep were yelling and screaming, but they didn't fire at the risk of hitting their own people with a blind shot.

By the time Wilson started scrambling for cover, they had turned a searchlight on us and opened up with a volley of automatic weapon's fire. We made it to the trees and kept running for at least a quarter mile. That's when I noticed I'd lost the binome somewhere behind me. I turned around and tried searching for him by backtracking.

"Over here," he whispered hoarsely.

He was laying against a tree, pressing a wad of clothing over a wound in his lower cube.

"They got me," he said. "I can't feel my legs."

"I can carry you," I said.

"Forget it," he said. "I'd slow you down. I'm done for." He handed me a sheaf of papers. "Get these to the marines in St. Claire. Rendezvous point's a tavern called _Den du Renard_. Use the code phrase ' _Les jeunes filles françaises sont douces en avril._ ' The correct response is, ' _Mais ils sont amers en hiver._ ' Tell them you're OSS. Got that?"

"I got it," I said. What about you? I can't just leave you here."

"You're gonna have to, Sawyer," he said. "There's a lot on the table with this. Here." He handed me his gun, a hammerless FN Model 1910 pistol. "Now move. I don't like to die in front of an audience."

I looked around for any sign of the Germans. "You're not going to die."

I grabbed him by the arm and threw him over my shoulder. He groaned pitifully as more of his blood-energy leaked out of his wound and onto my shirt.

"Don't be a fool," he groaned weakly.

"Shut up."

I moved in the general direction of the road. By the time we made it back to the meadow I needed a minute to catch my breath. I laid Wilson down only to find him limp and unresponsive. I thought cyber-beings were supposed to pixelize and vanish when they died. Apparently, the mechanics of this game didn't allow that to happen, and I felt myself get furious for no apparent reason. My father rarely spoke about his combat experience, but when he did it was like torture for him. Now I understood why, and I hated it.

I left him there in the bushes. I hated that, too, but I couldn't be caught hauling a dead body around with me. My only consolation was that the system restore would fix everything. Or would it? Welman said it wasn't a fix all. Did that mean if someone died in one of these realities, they were dead for good? Deleted files were retrieved all the time; surely that was the case here.

I followed the tree line parallel with the road until I came to a stone marker. I assumed it meant I was getting close to my destination. My answer came about fifteen minutes later when I approached the village of St. Claire. It was one of those simple places you'd find on a travel brochure, something idealistic, simple and tranquil. There must have been some kind of curfew in effect because I didn't run into another soul. The gas lamps along the streets were lit, casting flickering shadows across the buildings around me.

After wandering the town for ten minutes I found the tavern I was looking for, _Den du Renard_. I walked inside and got a table. A female binome greeted me.

I didn't even wait for her to speak. I blurted: " _Les jeunes filles françaises sont douces en avril_."

She gave me an odd look then replied, ' _Mais ils sont amers en hiver_.'

She turned away from me and headed back over to the bar. A sprite and a binome got up from another table and joined me at mine. One was Matrix, his enormous bulk poorly concealed within clothes that looked two sizes too small. I had never seen the binome before, but he reminded me of William Shatner for some reason.

"Name and rank, sailor," Matrix said quietly.

"It's Army. Sawyer, Kevin T. Major. OSS southwest region."

"You took your sweet time getting here, major," Matrix said.

"Couldn't be helped," I said. "I ran into a patrol on my way through the woods. They made me."

"With lousy French like yours, I'm not surprised," said Matrix. "We need to get you outta sight. Micky."

"On it... _boss_ ," said the binome.

 _Wow, he even talks like Shatner,_ I thought. The binome led me into the back of the tavern and down into a brick cellar. It was cold, and the smell of mildew and damp earth was everywhere. In the cellar we were surrounded by racks of wine bottles and crates of beer. The binome tapped on one of the shelves against the wall. It slid back almost an inch and swung open a tiny crack just big enough for us to fit through.

There was a hidden room on the other side lit by a single lightbulb; small metal beds were pushed against all four corners and two empty barrels with a piece of plywood on top made a table in the middle. There were four people in the room, three binomes and one other sprite whom I'd never seen before. I assumed he was a game sprite already emplaced within the game.

Matrix closed the secret door with a deaf thud. "Boys, this is Major Sawyer from intelligence," he said. "I'm Lieutenant Reznik, Easy company CO." He gestured to the Shatner binome: "This is Master Sergeant Kinsey."

He then pointed out the other people in the room; the game sprite was named Corporal Davis and the three binomes were privates: Farman, Shumaker, and Dolan. Private Dolan I recognized as Specky, the lab tech who was always working in the War Room.

"We've got twelve more people scattered across the village in different places," Matrix said. "The Resistance has been keeping us up ever since we air dropped in two weeks ago. They've also managed to get us guns and ammo, automatic Thompsons from the Brits and Browning Hi-Powers in .45 ACP, concussion mines and grenades from stolen German arms transports."

"Sounds like you guys are pretty armed up," I said. I reached into my pocket and opened up the packet of papers Wilson had given me. One was a large map of the local area showing troop movements of Nazi commandos.

It occurred to me that I had no idea what this meant or how to read it. Luckily, the other pages were notes handwritten by Wilson explaining the significance of the map. We spread the field map across the makeshift table and, reading the notes, I explained how the Germans were pushing their lines forward past St. Claire, which would cut off the French Resistance in the south of France from established supply lines.

"We need to cut off the fifth and sixth infantry regiments in the southwest from the ninth artillery brigade in the north," I said. "The Germans will wait for reinforcements before they try and make a final thrust past St. Claire, but in the meantime, we'll get our own reinforcements from the first Marine division. That's over two thousand troops, more than enough to push back the Nazis."

Matrix studied the map and nodded. "It looks good on paper," he said. "Unfortunately, there's been a few...complications."

"What complications?" I asked.

"The Germans are reevaluating their attack strategy," said Matrix. "Apparently, something's already got them stalled."

"Do you know what?"

Matrix nodded to Specky. "Tell him," he said.

"I've been monitoring Nazi radio traffic since we got here," Specky explained. "Ever since those earthquakes started, the Germans have been on the horn non-stop with Berlin. There's something strange going on that's got them scared. Then, just a little while ago, I intercepted a transmission between the commanders of the ninth artillery and the fifth infantry. They were being attacked by..." He stopped short, clearly hesitant.

"Attacked by what?" I prodded.

Specky huffed. "They said 'woodland savages' were attacking them."

"Woodland savages? You mean like indians?"

"That's the Kraut translation," Specky said.

"I didn't believe it either," said Matrix. "Then we all heard gunfire in the background, so it was obvious they were being attacked by something."

"Could it have been the Resistance?" I asked.

"Negative," said Sergeant Kinsey, the Shatneresque binome. "We... _checked with the locals_. _Nobody_ from the _Resistance_ has been active since we... _parachuted in_."

There must have been some connection between the earlier quake and what was going on behind the German lines. I had to find out what it was.

"Lt. Reznik, how do you feel about doing some recon?" I asked. "If the Germans are being attacked by a third-party, we need to know who it is and how much damage they've done."

Matrix grinned. "I've been looking for a reason to stretch my legs," he said. "Kinsey, you hold the fort here. I'll take three others along with the major. Boots and saddles in ten mike."

By the light of the moon, I could make out the shapes of my companions as we slowly made our way through the woods and into German territory. In my hands I held a Thompson sub-machine gun with a drum magazine while a leather shoulder holster hid a Browning Hi-Power inside my leather peacoat. I changed into a black turtleneck and navy combat pants before arming up.

I tried to ignore the déjà vu I felt as we crept from tree to tree, keeping to a low crouch and moving with careful precision. Unwillingly, I was taken twenty years back in time to when I was about nine or ten. It was a moonlit night just like this. Me, my brother, Kyle, and our father were on a camping trip in the Smokies. Armed with paintball guns, we three set off into the woods. We had done this countless times before that week; two of us would give the other one a five minute head start and then begin pursuit. The objective was to evade being shot for a full hour while making it back to camp unscathed. This time it was Dad's turn to be pursued by me and Kyle.

I was too young to know just what Dad was really doing. It was preparation for a life of combat and survival, a childhood full of worst-case-scenarios and backup plans. He wanted his sons to be ahead of the curve when they finally found themselves in the seat of an F-16, after blowing through the Air Force Academy like a breeze through an empty building. At that age, it seemed like the highest calling in the world to me.

"Colonel Sawyer's kids," people would say in awe, "yea they'll fly higher and faster than anybody else...They're hardcore Air Force...They don't make them like that anymore...That oldest already has a full-bird with his name on it."

As I got older I stopped seeing things in black and white, and I realized my whole life had been one big indoctrination course. It took Kyle dying over Bagdad to make things crystal clear for me. Now, as I let all that experience and training come back to me, I felt ashamed. I felt ashamed at how easily I took to it again, at how every sense seemed amplified and at how the adrenaline soaking my blood should have reduced me to a quivering, shaking mess but didn't. I was calm and ready, excited and more alive than I had felt since being a kid. I felt like I could take on anything this game grid could throw at me.

I was a soldier now, just like my father wanted. I hated that he'd finally gotten his way after all these years. I couldn't dwell on that, though. People were depending on me, people I cared for. I had to remind myself I wasn't doing this for Dad, I was doing it for Mainframe. That made it easier to cope with.

We reached the location of the fifth infantry. We approached slowly under the cover of darkness, dropping to a low crawl now. We stayed in the shadows near the bushes, lest the chalky white of the moon expose our position. Through a pair of field binoculars, Matrix surveyed the scene from our location seven hundred yards away.

"Looks quiet," whispered Matrix. "No movement. No light. The whole place is dead." He signaled for two binomes to move forward two hundred more yards for a closer inspection. "This doesn't feel right," he whispered to me. "There's supposed to be over a hundred storm troopers in that camp. Should be some activity, but there's not even a man on perimeter watch."

We waited for the two binomes to return.

"There's nothin' goin' on in there, boss," said one of them. "I mean nothin'. Not a livin' soul. It ain't natural."

Matrix seemed to consider this a moment. "Any bodies?"

"None what we could see."

"Let's move in and take accountability," he ordered. "We need to find out what happened here. If the Krauts have been flushed out we may be headed home early."

We walked the rest of the way into the German camp as if we were strolling through the park. Large field tents had been erected and vehicles were parked around the inner perimeter. Sandbags had been used to construct barriers and huts for defensive posts. The only remains of any human activity were several small smoldering campfires that had burned themselves out.

"This is weird," said one of the binomes. "How could a hundred soldiers just disappear?"

It was odd. There were no bodies, which contradicted what I already knew about the mechanics of the game; dead bodies did not disappear here. I bent down and picked up several spent shell casings.

"They were fighting something," I said, showing the brass shells to Matrix. "At least it confirms what you heard over the radio."

"Who would attack a whole unit of Nazi storm troopers and leave all the weapons and equipment behind?" asked Matrix.

"Excellent question," I said. "Let's see if we can find the radio tent."

It was obviously the one with the big antenna sticking out of it. I sat down in the chair and began manipulating the dials on the heavy metal cabinet in front of me.

"What are you doing?" asked Matrix.

"I'm trying to raise one of our listening posts," I said. "Go see if the antenna was damaged, would you? I'm just getting static."

Matrix nodded and left me alone to fiddle with the radio. I kept flipping through the frequencies, adjusting the gain and bandwidth on the shortwave, probing the ether as it were.

" _Kevin, come in,_ " I heard Welman say over the interference. " _Can..ou read..? Over._ "

I pressed down on the "Talk" button and spoke into the microphone. "Welman, this is Kevin. Over."

There was a burst of static then: " _...adjust...sixteen...egacycles_." I adjusted the radio again and the transmission cleared up. "Kevin, can you hear me?"

"I read you, Welman," I said. "I'm glad I got you back."

"The feeling's mutual. Listen, we've got a serious problem."

"Great," I said, exasperated. "What now?"

Someone outside screamed: _"Contact!"_ There were several bursts of automatic weapons fire.

"Is that gunfire?" asked Welman.

"I'm in a war zone, Welman," I said. I could hear Matrix shouting orders.

"Kevin," said Welman, "the game zones, they're expanding. They're beginning to overlap and merge in certain areas."

"What's causing it?" I asked.

More gunfire, and now people were screaming.

"The virus, he's consuming the game energy at a fantastic rate," Welman said. "It's causing the separate game realities to break down and feed on each other to compensate. We're looking at a total system crash in a matter of milliseconds."

"Major!" Matrix yelled. "We've gotta get outta here, now!"

"I need one more minute!" I said. I asked Welman: "Have you fixed the teleporter?"

"We've almost got it working," he said. "Mouse is going to retrieve Dot and bring her here to The Citadel. I'll try and get communication back on the earpiece."

Something crashed into the tent and destroyed the antenna. I cursed under my breath and grabbed my Thompson. Rushing outside, I tried to find Matrix. He was behind a fifty-caliber machine gun on top of one of the German trucks. He was firing full blast at a large, four-legged creature that looked like a giant bear, but instead of fur it had glistening skin like a salamander that was glowing amber red.

A similar beast reared up behind me from the ruined remains of the radio tent. I stepped back and raised my gun, holding the trigger down and letting loose a hot copper spray of bullets. I wasn't doing anything; the creature was taking the shots like they were rubber pellets.

I turned to run, but before I could even spin around I felt one of its large paws clip my legs. It felt like having the rug pulled out from under me. Before it could crush me with its front feet, I rolled away and tried throwing a grenade while it chased me. The explosion knocked it off its feet, but it barely slowed it down; it got right back up, shook it off and resumed its pursuit.

What happened next is kind of a blur. I remember being whacked in the head with a wooden staff while I was running. Then the world exploded in a barrage of colors, and I lost consciousness again. I could only hope this wasn't becoming a habit.


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7: Merge**

I don't know how long I was unconscious. All I remember was someone shaking me until I came around.

"Sawyer, wake up, man!" It was Matrix, calling me out of the comfortable depths of sleep.

I groaned, bringing my hand to my forehead. "Kill me now," I said. "Kill me now, and I might live."

"Somebody's messed with his marbles, boss," said another voice.

I opened my eyes. I was lying on my back, looking up into the faces of Matrix and several other binomes whom I'd been with in the German camp.

"What happened?" I asked. I tried to sit up.

"We don't know," Matrix said. "One second we're being chased by hell hounds and the next we wake up here."

"Here?"

I looked around. We were inside some kind of yurt; the walls were made of dried clay bricks, the roof was thatched with a hole in the top center to allow smoke to exit the structure. There was a fire going. Everyone had been given a mat of wool to lay on and I could see hollow gourds full of water and fruit next to each.

I was parched. One of the binomes handed me some water. It was crisp, cool and exactly what I needed to sate my thirst.

"How long have we been here?" I asked.

"Not long, I gather," Matrix said. "About an hour at the least. The sun still hasn't come up."

"What happened?"

"There was, I don't know, some kinda light, and then we all woke up here."

"You didn't happen to get smacked in the head did you?" I asked.

"I don't think so," he said. "But our weapons are gone, and I lost two good men back there to whatever that creature was. We need to get outta dodge and high-tail it back to St. Claire for reinforcements."

"Boss," said one of Matrix's soldiers, "we've got company."

The entrance of the yurt was covered by a wool blanket. It was pushed aside and two sprites entered. They were both females; one was AndrAIa, the other a sprite I'd never seen before.

AndrAIa's hair was pulled back into a long ponytail; exposing her pointed ears which were normally hidden under her aquamarine mane. She wore a loose fur robe that was meant to disguise her growing baby bump (she was halfway through her second trimester) and her neck and wrists were adorned with gold bracelets and necklaces. Her trident had become a long wooden staff with a large circular metal ring at its head and a shimmering diamond in its center. Something like a silver crown adorned her head.

The other female sprite had aqua blue skin and crimson red hair pinned back by the edges of a bronze crown. She wore a bikini made out of tanned animal leather and furs covered her feet up to her knees. She also carried a long scepter with a jewel fitted into its head. I was glad to see AndrAIa, but my comrades were more focused on her attractive, scantly clad companion. Their jaws were hanging open like the screws bolting their heads together had come loose.

"Why do you stare?" she asked, her hand on her hip. "Haven't you ever seen a woman before?"

"Boss," said one of the soldiers, "did we die? Because I think I'm seein' angles."

"Stow it, Perez," Matrix said cautiously.

"You see, my queen?" The blue-skinned game sprite was now addressing AndrAIa. "They mock us, just as the others did. We should dispose of the vermin now before more of their kind trespass further into our territory."

"Forgive us, your eminence," I said, rising to my feet and bowing slightly, my hands at my sides. "We meant no disrespect."

"Sawyer," Matrix whispered stressfully, "what are you doing?"

"Trust me," I said. I turned back to AndrAIa and her courtier. I was pretty good at working the game mechanics to my advantage by now. I just hoped my winning streak would hold out. I said:

"My name is Sawyer. My compatriots and I are soldiers. Forgive our trespass; we did not know we were in your territory."

"Explain yourself," AndrAIa said.

"Our country is at war with a mighty alliance of evil called the Axis. They present a great danger to everyone unlucky enough to lie in their path."

"We know of these Axis Powers," said the blue sprite. "Your ' _sturmmenn_ ' told us this much before we slaughtered them."

"The storm troopers are our enemies," I said. "They are the sword arm of the Axis. And if you indeed destroyed them we owe you a great debt of thanks."

"Then you are the Allies the _sturmmenn_ spoke of," AndrAIa said.

"We are."

"Then we are now Allies," AndrAIa said. "The Axis has declared war on the elvish tribes by violating our homelands. Sit. We have much to discuss."

I sat back down. "This is Lieutenant Reznik," I said, introducing Matrix as his game character.

"He is your second?" asked the courtier.

"Second?" asked Matrix.

"She wants to know if I outrank you," I muttered. "Yes, he is my right hand. I command him and he commands his soldiers. It's the way we do things."

"I am the ruler of the Shi'ar," AndrAIa said. "My name is Ranna. This is my sister and my second, Korandi. Our tribe numbers in the many thousands. Our lands stretch from the base of the mountains in the east to the great river in the north and the Great Divide in the west."

"Sawyer," Matrix said, "there are no mountains in the east of France."

"We're not in France," I said. "What is this land of yours called?" I asked AndrAIa.

"It is called Rylaia," AndrAIa said. "You have never heard of it?"

"It's not on any map I've ever seen," Matrix said. "What's this broad sellin'?"

I ignored Matrix's question. "Ranna, has there been anything strange happening in your land lately?" I asked. "The ground trembles and there are places where the air shimmers."

"What do you know about it?" asked Korandi accusingly.

"It is happening to our land as well, and it is what has brought us, the Axis and the Allies, to Rylaia," I said. "There is a great power at work that has thrown our worlds together."

"You speak of dark magic, Sawyer," said Korandi. "Yet you say you have no knowledge of Rylaia or its ways."

"I am a traveler of many worlds," I said. "In one I am a scientist, in this one I am a soldier, in another I am almost considered a deity by some. It is because of this great imbalance that I must ask for your help. I seek to restore the world as it was before."

AndrAIa and Korandi looked at each other, and I wondered if I'd overplayed my role.

"You say you are from another world," AndrAIa said. "Of other lands beyond this existence, we are aware. Never before have we met travelers from beyond Rylaia. Before we fed the the Axis _sturmmenn_ to our beasts, they spoke of their evil regime; they seek to destroy us and conquer Rylaia. What makes you different from them?"

"I only want to fix that which is broken," I said.

"And what do the Allies want?" asked AndrAIa, this time directing her question directly to Matrix.

"Lady, we only want what every other good ole' boy from Indiana wants," he said, "life, liberty and baseball."

"Baseball?" asked AndrAIa curiously.

"Yea. I root for the Cubs personally."

I looked at Matrix. "The Cubs? Seriously?"

"You got a problem with the Cubbies?" he asked incredulously.

"Only every other World Series," I said. "Oh, wait, I meant every other World Series _before the 1930s!_ "

"I believe you've made your point," AndrAIa said. "We treasure the freedom to live life to the fullest. We will help you drive the Axis from Rylaia and then back to the dark pit they crawled from."

"Thank you," Matrix said. "We have people waiting for us in a village not far from here. We need to contact them. You took some equipment from us when we were captured. We need it back."

"It will be given to you," said AndrAIa. "Sister, take them."

Korandi escorted us out of the yurt. The elvish village was in a wooded area of oaks and pines tall enough that they formed a canopy that could totally mask the sun. There were many yurts made from the same dried clay bricks on either side of a well-worn path leading up to a kind of temple that looked like it had been carved out of the trunk of an immense poplar tree. Along the main thoroughfare were oil-coated torches lit to illuminate the central part of the village.

The population consisted of binomes and sprites alike, all wearing the same fur motif. The Mainframers here apparently believed they were forrest elves.

Korandi took us to another yurt where our guns and radio equipment were laid out on wooden tables.

Matrix told one of the binomes to get on the radio and raise St. Claire. While the others began doing function checks on their weapons, Matrix pulled me aside.

"What was all that back there?" he asked.

"It'll be easier if you just play along," I said. "I know what I'm doing."

"And keeping me in the dark, how does that fit in?"

"Believe it or not, I've had this conversation before, and it's getting really annoying," I said. "Take a good look around. This isn't France; it isn't even Earth. That thing that got the Germans so nervous, it's happened to us. Two worlds have collided, separate pieces of space and time that should never have touched are being pressed together. That's what's happened. Allied High Command has sent me in to fix the problem."

"If I wasn't standing right here, I'd say you were two smokes short of a full pack." He looked around, contemplating his surroundings. "Then again."

"Lieutenant," said the soldier on the radio. "I've got Dolan on shortwave. He's giving our position to First Marine Division. They'll air drop ten klicks north of where we found the Nazi camp."

"Good work," Matrix said.

"There's more, sir. Dolan says the sixth infantry division and the ninth artillery group are converging on the fifth's previous position. They've gotten reinforcements from the locals."

"Locals? As in the French?"

"Negative, sir," said the binome. "Locals, as in these folks."

Matrix and I turned to Korandi. "He certainly does not mean the elvish peoples," she said. "Where are the Axis now?"

"Roughly thirty klicks north of here," the binome said.

"That's oark land," Korandi said. "They must have made a pact with the oarks."

"Who or what is an oark?" I asked.

"They are savage creatures that live underground in the caves," she said. "They are cousins of the trolls, but much bigger and more physically powerful."

"Just tell me straight," Matrix said, "how much does it take to kill one?"

"I have seen your weapons. You will be able to hurt them, but to kill one you will need something much bigger."

"Great," Matrix said with a sigh. "What else can we expect?"

"If the oarks are with the Axis then so are the trolls. We must consult with my sister and the high circle. Come with me."

With Korandi, Matrix and I walked up the main thoroughfare and into Kolmar, the community meeting hall. Two great, tall pinewood doors stood open, leading inside. The interior was all one room, dominated by wooden tables and chairs where the people would come to eat their daily meals together. At the head of the hall was a great chair, elegantly carved like a throne. Heavy metal candelabras hung by chains from the ceiling, lighting the hall in a dull orange glow.

AndrAIa sat on the throne, surrounded by four other women who also wore crowns of different metals and carried wooden scepters with jewels. The elvish society was apparently matriarchal.

"We have heard news of the oarks," said Korandi. "They have forged a pact with the Axis."

The four leaders looked to each other then to AndrAIa.

"If this is true then surely the oarks will attack our villages on the northern border," said one leader.

"And the trolls will not be far behind them," said another. "The Axis have enlisted the aid of our worst enemies. How can we hope to defend ourselves?"

"That's where we come in," Matrix said. "The First Marine Division is going to air drop north of where you found us. You'll have two thousand American marines backing you up."

"Two thousand! Great Goddess, we may yet have a chance."

"We'll meet the Krauts head on at that point," Matrix said. "But if we're going to pull this off, we need an airtight plan."

Truer words were never spoken. Where was Dot when you needed her?

It was much later when we adjourned. We laid out a basic plan of attack based on how the oarks and trolls would be deployed with the German storm troopers. The trolls would make up the first wave of attack, cannon fodder. We would take them down with mines and mortars, no direct physical contact. The next wave would be German SS on motorcycles armed with automatic weapons. Those we would fight with elvish archers and our own Thompsons and M1 rifles. The big guns would come out with the oarks; great, brutish creatures with skin the color and consistency of poured cement and the brains of an angry bull.

The oarks would be dealt with by using _delks_ , the creatures that attacked us at the fifth infantry's camp. Delks were used by the elvish as hounds. They were controlled by telepathic energy channeled through the staffs carried by the leadership. With AndrAIa's guidance, Matrix formed a strategy. There would be two flanks of delks; they would form a V. The tip would penetrate the forward lines of the German infantry like a spearhead. Once the lines were breached, the two flanks would separate and push the infantry in opposite directions, opening a hole for the marines to filter through and take on the SS face-to-face.

The enemy's artillery would likely position themselves atop a plateau roughly one mile away from the field where we would do battle with the Nazis. That was our main problem. With an elevated position like that, they could shell us to kingdom come. We couldn't count on an air strike, so before Matrix and the elves could make their attack, I would lead a small group to overpower the ninth artillery and disarm them.

I walked out of the hall feeling drained and weary. It was good that Welman called when he did because I was in need of some good news. Luckily, I had not lost the earpiece he gave me in the superhero game. There was a crackle of static, and I heard his voice come through like the clear ringing of a bell.

"Kevin, are you there?"

I tapped the key on the earpiece. "Welman, thank God. What took you so long?"

"The teleporter developed a few bugs because of the shifting game realities," Welman said. "I've corrected the problem. I can open a portal for you to return to The Citadel now."

"Not right now," I said. "I've found AndrAIa, and your oldest son is still with me. Their two game environments have merged."

"It isn't just you. There are mergers happening all across the system," Welman said. "Mouse had to fight her way through a heard of raptors to find Dot and Bob."

"Is she all right? Are _they_ all right?"

"They're fine," Welman said. "Although, I must admit, having my own daughter not recognize me is very disconcerting."

"How did they take the transition?"

"Better than I originally believed they would, but I think you had something to do with that. They mentioned this was not their first experience crossing the border between realities."

"A little acclimation never hurts," I said. "Look, I can't leave now. I'm going to bring Matrix and AndrAIa back with me, but first we have to go to war."

"Kevin, it's a game," Welman said.

"But AndrAIa and Matrix don't understand that. If I'm going to recruit their help, I need to earn their trust. It's dangerous, but I think I can do it. Can you have the teleporter ready to pick us up in two milliseconds?"

"I'm reasonably sure," he said. "I can triangulate your position through the earpiece's signal, but the game environments are still in flux. I could lose you at any moment."

"Just do your best," I said. "I'll call you when we're ready to leave."

"I could send you some help," Welman said. "Enzo is still begging me to let him come after you."

"Will he retain his superpowers if he crosses over?"

"I don't know," said Welman. "Since the realities are merging, it's possible he could carry the necessary protocols with him, but it's a stretch."

"I don't want to take the risk, Welman," I said. "Enzo could come flying in and find himself not-so-bulletproof anymore. He's a great kid, but he's headstrong."

"Trust me, I know," Welman said. "Alright, Kevin, we'll play it your way. Although I'm not so sure I can keep Bob and Mouse away so easily. As soon as he heard you were fighting the…ah, 'Krauts' in France, it was all Dot could do to keep him from joining you armed with nothing but his revolver."

"Tell them to save their energy for what's coming," I said. "Compared to what we're going to face in the P.O., what I'm doing here is a walk in the park."

I clicked off and decided to walk around the village to clear my head. Our job was to hold the Germans at the fifth infantry's camp until the First Marine Division could drop in and relieve us. Once that happened, over two thousand marines would come charging through the hole in the front lines and it would all be over. The Germans would either surrender or be annihilated.

Korandi would lead the elves into battle in place of AndrAIa, who would remain in the village due to her pregnancy. The village leaders-all of them were amazonian warrior women-would ride with the delks into the heart of the battle. One leader wielding her staff could control up to twelve delk beasts. Minus AndrAIa, that would give us up to sixty delks to breach the forward lines. All this depended on my group taking out the ninth artillery. So long as the Germans held that plateau, they could reign death down on us in the form of mortars, howitzers and snipers. Hence, the battle would not begin until we took the artillery and waved a white flag over her ranks.

Had this been a real-life scenario, I might have stopped to consider the moral ramifications of what I was about to take part in. I told myself this wasn't a real war, it was only another person's interpretation of it. I had one mission only: save Mainframe. Practically speaking, I was in a Game Cube, and I was in a fight for my life and the lives of my friends. My highest priority was winning the game, which meant deleting my way through game sprites and any obstacle that kept me from my objective, which was erasing Sphinx and restoring the system.

I couldn't do that alone; I needed help from the people I was fighting for, whether they remembered who they really were or not.

I took a quick nap after that then washed myself in a nearby stream. The rest of Easy Company was already stationed in the forest beyond the German camp, laying down the mines for the first wave of trolls that would attack us first and giving us the locations so we wouldn't accidentally step on one of our own explosives. They were also radioing regular reports concerning enemy troop movements and the deployment of storm troopers with the oarks and trolls. When we finally got underway, I rode on the back of a delk along with one of the female matriarchs.

I learned that the elves could also use their staffs to cast spells for offensive and defensive purposes. The blinding light I saw just before passing out was an offensive spell meant to incapacitate an enemy without harming them. Our strategy was like this: while the delks attacked the forward line, the matriarchs leading them would simultaneously cast a number of defensive spells to protect their flanks from enemy fire. Once the tip of the spearhead pierced the German line, the matriarchs would then switch to offensive attacks to drive the line apart. The delks would be hypnotized to separate their formation and attack on their own while the elves held back reinforcements from further back.

I was given command of a small force of elves and two marines from Easy Company, the Game Sprite named Corporal Davis and a binome, Private Little. The elves in our detachment were mostly male game sprites and a few binomes. They were armed with metal knives and swords forged by their village blacksmith. In retrospect it seemed foolhardy to go up against a whole artillery unit with a bunch of breechcloth-wearing, sword-swinging vikings who lived in trees.

I was still wearing my leather peacoat and turtleneck, looking all the world like some pulp hero from the days of Doc Savage with my Thompson slung across my back and a pistol tucked under my belt. While the rest of the tribe was getting into position, my team was quietly sneaking up on the German ninth artillery from the rear. I had Corporal Davis spread the warriors under his charge in a long row along a ridge in front of the plateau. Below us was a flat bowl with forrest on either side. The battlefield was to be in the middle, where there was nothing but grass and small pond with the empty camp of the fifth infantry in the middle.

The ninth artillery consisted of eight howitzers and fifteen long-range mortars. They had dug themselves in behind a vertical rock wall disguised by a thicket of trees and bushes. Using this thicket as cover, we descended into position behind the Germans. A strong wind from the south rustled the shrubbery, masking the sound of our descent. The elves would hold below the ridge until we advanced with grenades, and while the Germans were distracted with us, the elves would attack from their forward position and we would all take the camp.

It didn't happen very quick or efficiently, as I had imagined it. On my signal, Davis, Little and I each threw two grenades each into the mist of the German trenches. There was loud shouting, surprise, and then a series of loud concussions as the grenades exploded. Davis and Little too left flank, I took right. I took cover behind a jeep and opened fire with my Thompson as three German soldiers came running round to intercept me. I moved out from behind the jeep and took cover behind an unmanned howitzer, tossing two more grenades.

The elves were in the thick of it now, going toe-to-toe with armed German storm troopers and slashing and hacking away with longswords and maces. That's when something unexpected happened. The artillery wasn't alone; they had friends. _Samurai!_

Not exactly samurai, but Japanese infantry armed with samurai swords. I couldn't believe it. The Japanese were supposed to be in the Pacific, not Eastern Europe. I remembered from my history that select units in the Japanese Army carried samurai swords into combat and actually fought with them. Legend said they were sharp enough to slice through the barrel of a machine gun and could just as easily decapitate a man.

Except they weren't supposed to be in France! Whoever designed this game did a shoddy job in their research, and I was paying the price.

Just after I emptied my first magazine, one of the samurai lunged at me from out of nowhere, thrusting his sword. I barely got out of the way, and instead the blade sliced through the sleeve of my jacket and cut into my arm. I gasped in pain, and he didn't give me any time to do anything else. He spun in the air and roundhouse kicked me square in the chest. The momentum knocked me back, but I stayed steady on my feet. I raised my Thompson to fire but the sickening click reminded me I was out of ammo. I cast it aside as he rushed me again, swiping at me with the razor-sharp blade. I thought I could hear the air molecules split as the sword arced through space.

I did an okay job of avoiding the samurai's attacks, but I couldn't keep it up forever. I found a piece of metal pipe and used it to parry his strikes, but again I was only stalling. Finally, he lunged at me again, this time aiming the tip for my heart. I didn't know if the pipe was long enough, but I was out of options. I sheathed the blade with the pipe while stepping to the side and twisting the hilt out of his infantryman's hands. I threw pipe and sword aside, and he full-body tackled me. He hadn't seen the pistol in my belt. So when he got on top to bash my brains in with the butt of his revolver, I snatched the small Model 1910 and fired a single shot through his chest.

He slumped back, face frozen in surprise. I laid there for a few seconds, breathing hard, and tried to remember he was only a character in a fictitious game. I got back up and found my Thompson. I slapped on a fresh drum magazine and found Davis. The ninth artillery had been smashed. Little was rigging a bomb to set off their ammo dump. I got a pair of field glasses and looked down into the valley and cringed at what I saw.

The Germans had started early. While we were trying to take the artillery's position, the Germans had gone ahead and sent in the first wave of trolls. The grassy plane below was now dotted with smoldering holes where mines had gone off. Added to that, the Germans had Panzers! A whole Panzer division was now making its way across the field toward the elvish lines. We hadn't been told about any tanks!

"Belay that!" I yelled. "Tell Little to forget the bomb and get as many of these guys on mortars and howitzers that we didn't destroy. Start shelling those tanks! I want them all as useless as scrap metal."

Davis bounced off to carry out my orders. I found a motorcycle and carriage and hopped on the saddle. It fired right up, and I took off downrange, headed right toward the battlefield. I can't remember what I was thinking at the time. All I knew is that Matrix and AndrAIa were going to get slaughtered. How I was going to help prevent that from happening, I don't know. I think my better judgement was clouded by the adrenaline because I still can't believe I did that.

I opened the throttle as much as it would go. I was soaring downhill fast. The first shells from the plateau came reigning down ahead of me, a few even successfully hit and destroyed a Panzer or two. I glanced down and noticed something rattling around in the carriage next to me. A box of dynamite with percussion fuses. I took a deep breath and turned my cycle into the coming armada of Panzers. I reached down and grabbed a stick of dynamite. I didn't know how long the fuse was set for, maybe five or ten seconds at the most. Again, I opened up my throttle and engaged the tanks head-on.

"I didn't really have time to notice the trolls lying around, but I got the impression they were less than three feet tall and had heads twice as big as their posture demanded. Their remains littered the battlefield, but otherwise I didn't contend with any. The mines set out by Easy Company did a pretty good job of eliminating them.

The tanks were occupied with trying to shell the plateau, their greatest threat being their own artillery turned against them. A single madman on a motorcycle didn't pose much of a threat to their armored skin. That would change when they figured out what I was carrying. I aimed my bike right in between two oncoming Panzers, dug out another piece of dynamite and popped their caps at the same time. I threw one in the path of the first Panzer and got just close enough to the second to toss it right on its track.

A few seconds later I heard two explosions and turned to see both Panzers had lost one set of tracks. They were now immobilized. Unfortunately, that was the easy part. The other tanks now saw I was a threat and a few of them turned their turrets on me. The ground began to explode around me as I made a zig-zag pattern across the battlefield to avoid being hit-not just from the tanks but also by the artillery on the plateau, although I was also helping them by giving them a target reference.

I managed to keep myself from being immobilized and took out a third Panzer with a dynamite stick.

The Germans must have started getting desperate because I eventually found myself in the path of a charging oark. They were uglier than Korandi gave them credit. Their faces were horrors of wilted flesh and horns, red eyes and a mouth full of pointed, jagged teeth. They stood over ten feet in height and upright, but their arms were disproportionate to their bodies and so drugged the ground by the knuckles. Their scaly skin was the color of wet limestone rock and their backs were covered in coarse, greenish hair.

I popped the cap on one more piece of dynamite and threw it back in the box. I revved up the throttle and took off to the meet the galloping heard of oarks. Halfway I rolled off the motorcycle and watched as the vehicle kept going and eventually exploded in a great fireball, blasting a few oarks with shrapnel. I would have been in trouble had it not been for Korandi charging in with her company of warrior women, guiding a spearhead of fierce delk beasts. I watched as the matriarchs unleashed a fantastic display of wild magic that forced the oarks to retreat.

It was finally working. The two flanks of delks were going to plow right through the German front lines. I could see some of the delks from my position, behind them now. I looked up in the sky and saw the air above filled with planes and parachutes. The marines were coming down, right on schedule. Oddly enough, my first reaction wasn't relief, but an overpowering urge to press forward and finish the job. I suddenly wished I hadn't let my cycle explode.

I wasn't left wanting. Matrix pulled up in a jeep with Corporal Davis behind the wheel.

"Sawyer," Matrix said, "I don't know where you get your guts from, but you can keep it all to yourself, brother. That was one of the craziest stunts I've ever seen."

"Just you wait," I said. "Crazy is still one step ahead of us."

The front lines broke. The First Marine Division moved in and forced the Germans to surrender. The elves were the real miracle workers of the operation, using their magic to protect the marines and inflict serious damage on the SS. It was over in less than a millisecond.

Matrix and I, and the rest of Easy Company, were ushered back to the village for a victory celebration. Along the way I tried to explain what was really going on in terms he could understand. I made it clear that the final battle was just around the corner, that I needed his help to restore the world to its proper form. I got through to him on some level, at least, although I don't think he completely grasped that his world was an illusion.

We entered Kolmar, the elven meeting hall, and were welcomed as heroes. There was to be a great feast to commemorate the battle.

"You have proven yourselves true friends of the Shi'ar," AndrAIa said, rejoicing in the news. "The Axis has been forever driven from the land of Rylaia. You shall all be remembered forever as our great allies."

"You know how to make an old marine feel appreciated, miss," Matrix said. "Unfortunately, for Sawyer and me that is, we can't stay for the celebration.

"The imbalance I spoke of still exists, Ranna," I said. "As long as our world remains fractured, Rylaia will always be in danger."

"What can we do to, Sawyer?" asked AndrAIa asked. "We are but simple folk, gifted with magic, yes, but we are not mages. But we are in your debt. Tell us what you need, and I will grant it."

"I need you to come with me," I said, "to another world. From there we will mount a final assault on the one who has done all this terrible damage."

"Me?" AndrAIa seemed flattered and frightened. "I would gladly join you and Lieutenant Reznik on your quest, but I am with child. I cannot possibly hope to serve you well."

"You're wrong," I said. "It would give me great comfort to know you and your baby are out of harm's way. I ask you to come only to satisfy my personal need to ensure your safety."

"Am I not safe in my own land?"

"It is no longer just your land, Ranna," I said. "Unless I am successful in my mission, others will come to seize your lands. Only by helping me restore the world to its proper form will Rylaia truly be saved, and I know you care about that deeply."

AndrAIa seemed resigned at first, but after considering it for a few seconds she said:

"This place you wish me to go, how many day's journey is it?"

"It is no journey at all," I said. I tapped the earpiece. "Welman, home in on my signal and activate the portal."

"Copy," Welman said on the other end.

There was a bright flash of light then space itself seemed to open up. A beam of light split the air until it formed a column of fluctuating light.

Everyone was awestruck at the spectacle.

"Sawyer," Matrix said, "did you do that?"

"Not exactly," I said. "There's nothing to be afraid of." I stuck my hand into the portal and pulled it back out. "This is a portal to another world where you will be safe until the world is restored."

"But what of my people?" AndrAIa asked. "I cannot abandon them."

"I'm sorry," I said, "but I can only take you."

"Sister," Korandi said, stepping forward, "you must not question the edict of Fate. You have been chosen to play a role in the Great Order. We will be waiting here for you."

AndrAIa nodded. "Thank you." She handed over her crown and scepter. She addressed the meeting hall: "Be well until I return. When the evil that plagues our land has been vanquished, I will see you all again."

I couldn't stand to tell her the truth, that after the system was restored she probably wouldn't even remember being Ranna.

She stepped forward and nodded to me. "I am ready."

I took her hand and guided her to the portal. Matrix joined us. He looked nervous.

"It's really just like walking across a room," I said soothingly.

They looked at one another then back at the portal. Matrix stepped through first then AndrAIa. I went last, giving the elvish one last look of goodbye.

I felt truly sorry that I would never see them again.


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8: Champions of Cyberspace**

Matrix, AndrAIa and I emerged in The Citadel, the base of operations used by Welman Matrix in the superhero game environment. It was nice to have everybody back together, even though nobody remembered. Bob and Dot were standing behind the pedestal while Welman manipulated the controls. Mouse, Ray and Enzo were on either side of him, watching us as we reintegrated in the gigantic laboratory. Ray's gaze was immediately drawn to AndrAIa.

"Welcome back, Kevin," said Welman. "I'm glad to see you made it in one piece."

Matrix took one look around the place and let out a long whistle. "Auntie Em, Auntie Em...what's next, Sawyer, Batman and Robin?"

I nodded to Enzo. "You're not far off."

Matrix looked startled when he looked at Enzo. "You look familiar, kid," he said. "What's with the pajamas?"

"It's my uniform," Enzo said. "What's with the eye, a gold tooth wasn't macho enough for you?"

"Boys," Welman cautioned, "now is not the time. At the risk of sounding cliche, we've got a system to save. Now behave."

"What's our status, Welman?" I asked.

"The system is growing more unstable by the nanosecond," he said. "The virus is absorbing energy at an exponential rate."

"Why does he need that much power? He has to know he's going to collapse Mainframe if he keeps the drain up like this."

"I think he's trying to open a portal to the Net," Welman said. "And if my calculations are correct, he'll reach critical energy levels in the next several microseconds."

"Then we need to move fast," I said. "Dot...I-I mean Gail, has the professor explained what you have to do?"

"Put my hand on something called a 'vidwindow'," she said meekly. "Sawyer, listen, I know you tried explaining this before, but what's going to happen when this is over? We all go back to our lives? What?"

"If everything goes as planned, we all wake up where we're supposed to be and we won't remember any of this," I said. "Worst case scenario, the world ends and we all cease to exist. That's what's at stake. Look, I don't have any right to ask you all to help me. Despite your appearances, you're not the people I once knew, before all this craziness happened. We were friends once-all of us-then something terrible happened and everybody and everything changed. You forgot who you really were and started believing you were someone else, you started living different lives. Welman and I are the only two people in Mainframe who remembers you."

"You're saying I'm supposed to be somebody else?" asked Enzo. "But I'm Rex Kelvin. I've always been Rex Kelvin."

"No, son, you haven't," said Welman. "You were Enzo Matrix once. You, your brother and your sister are the only family I have left."

"Brother?" asked Enzo.

"Don't you see a family resemblance?" I asked moving beside Matrix and nodding at Dot. "This big, ugly green guy is your older brother and Gail is actually Dot, your sister. Dash, your real name is Bob, and you are a policeman in real life, except that your title is Guardian, not Detective."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," Bob said, waving his hands. "You expect us to believe all this? Who are you supposed to be then?"

"In this world I'm called a User. I come from another universe outside your space-time continuum. For lack of a better term, I'm a god of this world."

Everybody's eyebrows shot up. The subject of my "divinity" was a topic I deliberately downplayed. Just because I was a User didn't make me all-powerful and omnipotent. I thought of it as an annoying form of celebrity status. Still, Users had created the Net, built systems and written programs. If a sprite came up to me and asked, _Say, did you write my code?_ who am I to say I didn't? I've written dozens of computer programs in my life. For all I know I could have written Welman!

"You're a god?" Ray said. "C'mon, mate, even I'm not laughing at that one."

"I'm serious, unfortunately," I continued. "This reality, which we call cyberspace, is a digital frontier made of energy and data not matter, and is therefore susceptible to extreme methods of corruption and distortion."

"Like the fractured realities you keep talkin' about," Mouse said.

"Exactly."

"So if you're God, why don't you just," Matrix snapped his fingers, " _fix it_."

"It doesn't work that way," I said. "In here I'm just like you."

"But you're God!"

"I'm not a god!" I snapped.

It suddenly occurred to me why God didn't speak to us mere mortals. I could very much imagine Him having the exact same conversation. And argue in circles for the rest of time.

"Look, the only way to end all this madness is to activate a mechanism called the system restore," I said. "If we do that, all this goes away and you get your lives back. Your _real_ lives."

"That's just it," Bob said. "We have to die for your friends to live. I'm Dash Chandler. I don't know this Bob guy, and I don't want to know him either."

"It's my way," I said, "or we all die. Every world, all your worlds and Mainframe. Deleted."

"Dash," Dot said, "if he's right then we've got to do it. If we're really just dreams and this is how we wake up..."

"Don't talk like that, babe," Bob said soothingly.

"But don't you understand? We can't condemn everybody just because we want to exist, not when we don't even exist at all. At least, in some small way, we'll live on after this is over. That's what you said, isn't it, Sawyer? We're all together in your world; we're family."

"Yes. You're a great family."

"You see," Dot said, "that's what we'll really be killing if we don't help."

The great building shook tumultuously. This time the quake didn't slowly die away. It kept going, getting stronger and stronger. The end was near, and we were standing around arguing about the finer points of being a real person.

"Welman, target the teleporter to the P.O.," I said. "We've got to hurry. The system feels like its starting to crash."

Welman refocused the portal, nodded. "I think I've got it."

"We'll need weapons."

"You've already got two living weapons right here, mate," Ray said.

"You can count us in," Enzo said. He turned to Matrix. "What about you...brother?"

Matrix sighed and shrugged. "I'm not much on religion, but it doesn't look like I've got much choice. I'm with you."

"AndrAIa?"

"If my life belongs to another then my decision is already made," she said. "This ends today."

"I'm with you, too," Dot said. "Dash?"

"Wherever you go, I go, even if it's over the edge," said Bob.

"It wouldn't be much of a party without yours truly," Mouse chimed in.

Outside, the city was falling apart. A wave of destruction was demolishing the game reality, and it was closing in on The Citadel.

"All right then. We're all agreed," I said, turning to the portal. "Let's do it."

The Principal Office was worse on the inside that it looked on the out. We beamed into a corridor adjacent to the core control chamber. This section looked like the inside of a whale's ribcage. Bony protrusions lined the corridor, clinging to slimy organic material that could have been decomposing flesh.

"Welman, I don't like this," I said.

"Agreed." He pulled out some kind of sensor device. "It's right down this way."

"For the first time I let myself feel a small glimmer of hope. As we entered the control chamber, we were greeted with a familiar sight. This region must have been like the eye of the hurricane, the center point where everything remained normal. The core room looked exactly like it should have, all polished steel, granite and marble.

"WARNING: SYSTEM CRASH...WARNING: SYSTEM CRASH..."

"Who's saying that?" asked Matrix.

"It's the automated system Situation Report," Welman said. "We need to work quickly. Dot, come here."

Welman took his daughter's hand and led us to an archway, one of several "zoom doors" that would carry us across the cavernous space between the central platform hovering above the core and the circular walkway around the circumference of the chamber.

"Zip, zip, zoom," Welman said. The empty space in the middle of the archway became an undulating cloud of white energy. "All we have to do is cross."

Beneath us was the reality simulator. To the naked eye it looked like the giant printed circuit of a central processing unit. A large square wafer supported by spindles bolted to a metal frame hovered above a storm of lightning. Beneath the reality simulator was Mainframe's core infrastructure, the true raw power of the energy sea being soaked up and channeled into the central processing unit. It looked like someone had trapped a plasma ball behind a glass dam, and anything unfortunate enough to fall into it was instantly vaporized.

"Contact!" shouted Matrix.

Above us, crawling along the wall were several fierce-looking creatures. They were quadrupeds but like bears they could rise up on their two hind feet and attack with their front claws, which were nine inches long and perfect for slicing through flesh. Their skin had the same slimy, decomposing appearance as the walls of the surrounding corridors. It was taunt and clung to their skeletons, revealing the muscle and bone underneath. The heads were elongated and connected to the trunk by a thin, narrow neck. There were no sensory organs that I could see, and the mouth was a series of tentacles that opened like the arms of a starfish to reveal a set of pincers and suction cups.

The second the first one hit the ground, Matrix let his Thompson go on full auto. Likewise, Ray and Enzo leaped into action. Ray started firing energy pulses while Enzo displayed his version of heat vision, which he referred to as his "pulsar gaze"; it was a sort of white-blue beam he fired from his eyes.

Even without her scepter, AndrAIa could still use magic, and she conjured up phantom-like apparitions that immediately took to battle. Mouse still had her dual lightsabers and was already going to work on the nearest bunch.

"Go. _Now_!" she yelled.

I pushed Bob toward the arch. We followed Dot and Welman through to the center platform. Two more creatures dropped in form above; Bob drew his revolver and took them down with a few rounds while I did the same with my pistol. I wished I still had my ray gun.

Welman opened a series of vidwindows and began to work.

"RETRIEVING RESTORE INFORMATION...PROCESSING BATCH FILE."

Enzo and Ray had taken to the air, fighting from an elevated position. They were scraping the drones from the walls while more spilled out through the surrounding corridors. I could still hear the rattle of Matrix's machine gun, see the semi-real wraiths conjured up by AndrAIa, but we were surrounded and outnumbered.

Then, a deep voice boomed all around us:

"This system is _MINE_!"

Above us hovered the mutated form of Sphinx, the upper chamber door closing behind him. He was no longer the insectoid I'd met in the Game Cube, but a nasty mass of tentacles and a head like an octopus. The only thing that remained the same was the ever-changing color of his skin.

"The time has come for Infector to rise again," Sphinx announced. "You are only annoying pixels to me now."

I felt an odd prickling sensation and suddenly my legs gave out. I hit the floor, unable to move my body. I was totally paralyzed.

"Welman, I can't move," I said.

"Neither can I," Welman groaned. "Dot?"

"My body's numb," she said. "What's he done to us?"

Then we were levitating, our bodies being picked up and held by invisible hands, most likely a form of telekinesis. Sphinx held us up to his eye level, several feet above the platform.

"You're crashing the system," I said breathlessly. "You'll be deleted with us."

"Not before I escape into the Net," Sphinx said. If he had a mouth, I didn't see it move. "Your efforts to stop me have failed. Did you really think a group of mere data sprites could defeat Sphinx, the greatest of Infector's functions?"

The system voice said: "BATCH FILE COMPLETE. SYSTEM RESTORE READY."

"Who is Infector?" I asked. I needed to keep him talking, make sure he kept his attention on us.

"Infector is the great digital chaos. The greatest of all my kind. Malware incarnate. Long ago, before the Web and the Net were separate, the Cobol Warriors divided Infector into The Seven Forms. The Seven are the source of all virals; all malicious code derives from them."

I was feeling bold now. "Yea, well, bring 'em on! In my world nothing can't be fixed with a keystroke, including your Infector!"

"Big words for a data sprite."

"I'm not a data sprite. You scanned me, remember? Do you know what my format is?"

"It is irrelevant," Sphinx said.

"I'm the most relevant thing in the universe to you," I said. "In here I may be as helpless as a decrepit old binome, but outside I can't be infected, deleted or manipulated. Scan me again, and see for yourself."

He must have failed again because he sounded angry when he spoke next. "Identify your format!"

"I don't have one. I'm that thing every one of you needs to fear most because what I give to this world I can just as easily take away."

"Impossible! This is blasphemy!"

"My name is Kevin Sawyer. I come from outside the Net, from beyond the Web and cyberspace itself. I am the virtual man, the human User. Remember my face because it's the last thing you're going to see. _Now Enzo_!"

The whole verbal debacle was really a last-ditch diversion to keep Sphinx's attention on me while Enzo and Ray snuck up on the mutated supervirus. I deliberately overplayed the whole User-God thing because, in this world, the only thing more scary than a falling Game Cube is a User. Plus, I've noticed almost all viruses have a tendency to monologue worse than comic-book supervillains.

In short, it worked. Enzo hit Sphinx from behind with his pulsar gaze. Mouse leapt from Ray's board onto his head, plunging both her lightsabers into the squishy cranium. The startled virus released us from his telekinetic hold, and we all fell to the platform. I was instantly on my feet, hauling Dot up by her hand. Grabbing her by the wrist, I pushed her open hand over the handprint on the vidwindow.

"AUTHORIZATION RECOGNIZED. DOT MATRIX."

A new horizontal window appeared next to us. Its black face opened into a round hole from which a glass palm-sized globe was pushed out. I grabbed the batch file and ran toward the edge of the platform. One of the creatures dropped in front of me, but before it could take a swing at me, Bob put it down with a few more shots from his revolver.

I looked at him for a nano, saw the decision in his eyes and he nodded. I turned and ran toward the edge.

" _NOOO_!" screamed Sphinx. I felt my body tingle, the paralysis reasserting itself. I mustered the rest of my strength and leaped, extending my arm and opening my fingers.

I came down too short, and I hit the stairs without feeling it. The momentum carried the batch file toward the edge of the platform, slowing down every micron. I was sure I'd failed.

I watched as the glass ball teetered on the brink, as if it stubbornly refused to go any further. Then it vanished over the edge.

There was a great explosion and the room shook. Either the world was ending and the system was crashing or the system restore was gearing up. Reality itself seemed to shudder as the space around me filled with light, a never-ending cascade of energy waves and space distortion. It felt like the force of a waterfall was rushing over me, but I was too out of it to feel my body drowning.

Eventually it ebbed away, and I was alone, too weak to move and shrouded in silence. Far away I heard a woman's voice.

"Somebody get a diagnostic team in here!"

A pair of rough hands rolled me over so that I was laying face-up.

"He's had the spam kicked out of him," a male voice said. It was Matrix. "I'm scanning him with my eyepiece."

"What just happened?" Dot asked. "How did we end up in the core room?"

"Glitch says the system restore was activated a few nanoseconds ago. We could be suffering from memory loss."

I tried to work my mouth, make my voice work but all that I managed was a weak croak. The fight had finally gone out of me.

"Try not to speak," Matrix said. "You've got some serious damage going on."

"Sphinx," I managed to say. It was a dry whisper.

"What did he say?" asked AndrAIa.

"Where's that fragging diagnostic team?" Matrix roared.

" _Virus...Sphinx virus.._."

"Something about a virus."

"Get CPUs on full alert! Activate security protocol five-point-six-point-eight. Complete antiviral scan at all checkpoints..."

I stopped trying to fight my weariness. I let my eyes close, and I drifted into blissful unconsciousness.


	10. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

I woke up a few microseconds later. I was in the infirmary, Phong leaning over me with an X-ray vidwindow.

"Phong," I said, getting his attention.

The old sprite turned his tired, gray eyes on my face and collapsed the window. "You should be resting, my son," he said. "You have been through a considerable ordeal."

"The system didn't crash?" I asked.

"No. We're all still online, I suspect in no small thinks to you given your injuries."

I heaved my aching bulk off the examination table, cringed when my body tried to refuse, and moaned when I made it obey me. I got to my feet. I took one look around the infirmary and sighed. "It worked."

"Then you did trigger the system restore function?"

"Yes, but I had help from the team," I said. "Phong, where's my suit? I need to get home."

"You should rest before exerting yourself, Kevin," Phong said. "You have numerous fractures and lacerations. I'm afraid in your weakened state-"

"I'm well enough to make it home, Phong," I said, making sure my voice held a tone of finality.

As I approached the door, the sensors automatically tripped and the barrier parted. Outside, standing in the hallway, was everyone who'd been with me in the core room. They all looked blessedly back to normal.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked Dot.

"I was just leaving," I said.

"In your condition?" AndrAIa said. " _Kevin_."

I held up my hand. "I just want to go home. I can get treated there. But I guess before I go you want an explanation."

"We've already heard what happened," Bob said. "We found the professor in the core room and got him back into a spare null suit. He filled us in on the whole situation."

"Then you know about the virus," I said, suddenly growing angry. "Where is he? What happened to Sphinx?"

"He's disappeared," Matrix said. "We scanned the whole system. We think he opened a portal just before the restore kicked in. It almost pushed the crash past the point of reversal."

"Great," I said, slumping against the wall.

"Hey, it's not all bad," Enzo said cheerily. "You saved the whole fragging system, dude."

" _Enzo_!" scolded Dot. "Language."

The kid grimaced and shrugged. "Sorry. The point is, everybody's fine. You did good, man."

" _We_ did good," I clarified. "I couldn't have done any of it without your help."

"That's what we were hoping to ask you," said Ray. "There are still a few blanks the prof couldn't fill in for us. The system restore wiped our memories of the past cycle."

"Figures, too," Enzo said. "Something exciting as a corrupted game cube takes over the system and we don't remember what any of it was like. And I was a superhero! Epic bummer."

Dot laughed. "There's just no justice. I still can't believe all those things really happened."

"You mean, none of you remembers anything?" I asked.

Bob said: "I remember bits and pieces, but its like trying to remember a dream. I think I remember a big, tall guy in a dark suit."

"Don't remind me," I grumbled.

"I remember being on a battlefield," said Matrix. "No...I was in a village or something." He turned to AndrAIa. "You were there, I think."

"I was?" she asked. "I honestly can't remember anything about it. What about you, Mouse?"

The mercenary had been leaning against the wall with her thumbs hooked through her belt. "I remember some, but its pretty much like the rest'a ya'll."

"Maybe that's for the best," I said. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to get ready to leave."

"Kevin," said AndrAIa, "you're a mess. At least let us finish treating you."

"I don't want treatment," I said, much too harshly than I'd intended. "I need a heavy dose of reality for a change."

I limped down the infirmary corridor toward the science lab. I made it halfway there when I noticed I was being followed.

"I'm fine, Mouse," I said. "It's not like I'm going to fall over dead while walking to get dressed."

She ignored me and made me put an arm around her for support.

"You must have gone through the Web," she said.

"You'd know," I said. "You were there...well, kind of."

"About that," she said as we reached the science lab. We stopped in the entrance. "I don't remember a whole lot. Like everybody else it's kind of like waking up from a long dream. All the details are fuzzy. I do remember one thing in particular, though."

Despite the pain in and around my head, I clinched my jaw. It looked like I wasn't going to get off that easily.

"What?" I asked dumbly.

She leaned forward and planted a brief, featherlight kiss on my lips.

I could feel my face growing red again, and for the first time I was thankful for the bruises that covered up the blush.

"I thought so," she said.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Mouse, I'm sorry. _You_ were...and _I_ was...and...we... _it just happened."_

She smiled that sly, impish grin and shook her head. She was shaking with silent laugher. "Oh, Doc, when are you ever gonna learn?"

For a nanosecond I couldn't speak. "Learn what?"

"That I don't believe in regrets." She brushed one of my bangs aside and caressed my face. Then she patted my chest and turned around, walking back the way she had come. "By the way," she said, halting to turn my way again, "if you're interested in having more fun someday, wait until I'm single. Then give me a call." She winked then turned and disappeared around the corner.

I just stood in the door of the lab for a microsecond, letting her last few words really sink in. I remembered what I had said to Violet that night. _I don't even think she looks at me the way you do._

"Guess I was wrong," I said aloud.

"After that I put on the pressure suit, said goodbye and came straight home," Kevin said.

He leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"Wow," Vivian said. "Just... _wow_."

"I know."

"Kevin, you realize-and I'm assuming you didn't embellish anything-that you shouldn't have survived at all, right?"

"I've been giving that a lot of thought, and you're right. If I had been in the real world, I'd probably be dead."

"Why should it matter?"

"Because games are programmed to be winnable," Kevin said. "Haven't you ever played a video game? Nothing in a game can work the same way it does in real life. Everything from the physics engine to the environment, it's all a simulation geared to appeal to a person's sense of adventure. But above all, a game has to be interesting as well as beatable. That's why I survived. Even though at the time it seemed like I was playing against the house, the odds were always stacked in my favor."

"Good guys always win, bad guys always loose," Vivian said.

"Exactly. And the system's reality simulator simply amplified that principle across the whole system. I doubt even Sphinx was aware of what was happening."

"But the virus got away."

"And I didn't die. Win some, lose some." Kevin shrugged.

Vivian gathered her things and rose to leave. "Well, you had an interesting week to say the least. I'm almost sorry I wasn't there to see it myself."

"Maybe one day you will," Kevin said. "After all, I can't be the only cybernaut for much longer."

Kevin walked Vivian to the door. She said:

"What you said before, about needing a dose of reality, what did you mean?"

Kevin paused, as if contemplating his thoughts.

"It's easy to get lost in there," he finally said. "Mainframe isn't like our world, Viv. I wouldn't say it's better, just different in a way that makes it _feel_ better. I can't really put it in words. It just occurred to me that I was paying too much attention to my life in there so that I was forgetting my life out here. As much as I want to belong in that world, I was born in this one, and I can't change that, no matter how long I stay in Mainframe."

"Kevin," Vivian said, "there's nothing wrong with wanting a better life for yourself. If you think you'd be happier in Mainframe, well, maybe one day it'll be possible for you to stay there permanently."

"It would be a nice way to escape," Kevin said.

"Escape from what?"

Kevin shook his head. "Never mind. Mainframe can wait. Right now, I've got to think of a nice, fat apology to Kelly Cleaver."

"Apology? For what?"

"I kind of blew up in her face the other day," Kevin said. "She was trying to make me go to this society dinner at the White House, said the President wanted to know why Virtual Man hasn't gone into full umbra status yet. I guess he needs to make sure his $4 billion a year is being well-spent."

"You mean nobody's told you?" asked Vivian.

Kevin cocked his head. "Told me what?"

"Cleaver has been holding up the recommendation personally," Vivian said. "I thought you knew, but what with you being back and forth between the lab and Mainframe lately I shouldn't be surprised."

"Why would she do that?"

"Its because of that fiasco with Martin MacDonald," Vivian said. "Cleaver felt she owed you a favor after what you did for her and Clark."

Kevin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to need a really good apology."

Kevin was still technically on medical leave, but that didn't stop him from going into work the next day. He only needed to stop by for a few minutes and say what he needed to say.

Kevin entered the cafeteria and spotted Cleaver sitting by herself at a table in the middle of the room. He mustered up whatever humility he had left and walked over to her.

"Mind if I have a seat?" he asked.

She glanced up at him, said nothing, and returned to eating her Caesar salad. He took it as a sign of indifference and sat across from her. She continued to concentrate on her lunch, ignoring his presence completely.

Kevin sighed. Where should he start?

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he found himself saying. "I was out of line."

She seemed genuinely surprised by his apology. He went on:

"I'm apologizing because I've been giving you a hard time since you got here. I'll be honest, I wasn't happy when Clark assigned you to the project. I thought you were a spy sent to look over my shoulder, but it turns out you've been looking out for me ever since my second trip."

"How did you-"

"Vivian explained it to me. I had no idea you were the one keeping the project going into full operation." Kevin sighed again. This was taking too long. "So I'm sorry for being a jerk."

"Okay," she said plainly.

"Just, okay? As in, we're okay?"

"Well, I guess you could say you owe me one," she said.

"I guess so..." Kevin imagined a noose being tied around his neck.

"I meant what I said. You need to see the President, and the ball is a better environment than a situation room at the White House, especially after he's a had a few glasses of champagne."

"But what am I supposed to tell him?"

"Tell him the system still has bugs. Tell him whatever you want, just make it sound convincing. He'll decide to leave the final decision up to me."

"What about Clark?" Kevin asked.

"Let me deal with Carl. You've got bigger problems."

"Granted. Okay, so what's the favor you need?"

"You're my plus one," she said.

"I'm sorry?"

"Did you think you got invited to the ball _personally_? That invitation was addressed to my date."

"Wait a minute. You need me for a _date_?"

"I prefer to think of you as arm candy."

"You do realize I'm a Princeton-educated quantum physicist," Kevin said.

Cleaver rose to leave. "Who says all science nerds have to look like Steve Urkel? Do you have a tux?"

"I haven't worn it years, but it should still fit."

"Perfect. A car will pick you up next Tuesday at six. We'll catch a private plane to Washington from the airfield at Beaufort. I've already got a reservation for you at the Dulles Hilton. I'll see you then. By the way, take it easy for a while. You look like George Foreman's punching bag."

"You're concern is touching, madam."

After she left, Kevin sat around for a while but eventually went home. He decided to take Vivian's advice and get started on de-weeding his garden. He changed into loose work clothes, and was headed outside when the phone rang. It was probably Cleaver with the details on the ball.

He went into his study, and picked up the portable phone on his computer desk.

"Hello?" he said.

"Kevin, honey? Is that you?" came a voice on the other end.

Kevin's mouth dropped open slightly. He recognized the voice, even after not hearing it for over six years.

"Mom," he said slowly. "Hi. It's been a while."


End file.
